Mr  -  " :'  i.K  - 


*     -'/    -7. 


I   gaze   upon   thy   wide   domain 

From   mountain    unto   boundless  sea, 

And    listen   to  the  grand    refrain. 
The   pillared   forests   sing  to   me. 


Californian  Pictures 


PROSE   AND   VERSE 


BENJAMIN   PARKE  AVERY 


SAN   FRANCISCO 

SAMUEL  CARSON  AND   COMPANY 

1885 


Copyright,  1877, 
By  MARY  A.  AVERY. 


t 

Zlrlr 

Itt5 


TO   THE   MEMORY   OF 

SAMUEL  PUTNAM  AVERY, 

Obit  New  York,  1832. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGB 

A   WORD   BEFORE 9 

NATURE   AND   ART 13 

A   WILD   NOSEGAY 18 

MOUNTAIN,  LAKE,  AND  VALLEY 19 

A   MEMORY   OF  THE   SIERRA 63 

UP   THE   WESTERN   SLOPE 66 

SUNRISE   NEAR   HENNESS   PASS 84 

ON   THE   SUMMIT 87 

EL   RIO   DE   LAS   PLUMAS "8 

HEAD-WATERS   OF  THE   SACRAMENTO 121 

THE   BIRTH   OF  BEAUTY 15° 

ASCENT   OF   MOUNT   SHASTA 152 

THE   MEADOW  LARK 191 

THE   GEYSERS *93 

GOLDEN   GATE   PARK 236 

CITY   SCENERY 239 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

THE   FAWN   ON   CHANGE ,  .261 

SANTA   CRUZ  MOUNTAINS 264 

AUTOCHTHONES .     280 

THE   FIRST   PEOPLE .  .282 

SONG  OF   THE   VAQUERO 311 

THE   TRINITY   DIAMOND 314 

OLD   AND   NEW       .  343 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


DRAWN    BY  ENGRAVED    BY  PAGE 

FRONTISPIECE. 
(From  a  Sketch  by  G.  A.  Frost)     Thomas  Moran      W.  H.  Morse. 

FOOT-HILLS   OF   THE   COAST   RANGE. 

(From  a  Sketch  by  W.  Keith)    .     Thomas  Moran  .  J.  A.  Bogert   .     .     24 

YOSEMITE  FALLS,  FROM  GLACIER  POINT. 

(From  a  Photograph)      ....     Alfred  Kappes    F.  Juengling  .     .    44 

SECTION   OF   SNOW-SHED. 

(From  a  Photograph)      ....     C. A.  Vanderhoof Robert  Varley  .     91 

CROWN   OF   THE   SIERRA. 
(From  a  Sketch  by  W.  Keith)    .    Thomas  Moran  .  E.  Bookhout  .    .  109 

DONNER    LAKE. 
(From  a  Photograph)  .    .     .    Alfred  Kappes    F.  Juengling  .    .  no 

MOUNT  SHASTA,  FROM  CASTLE  LAKE. 
(From  a  Sketch  by  H.  G.  Bloomer)   Thomas  Moran    J.  S.  Harley  .    .  122 

GOLDEN  GATE,  FROM  CONTRA  COSTA  HILLS. 
(From  a  Sketch  by  W.  Keith)    .    Thomas  Moran     Robert  Varley  .  192 

VALLEY   OAKS. 

(From  a  Photograph) Alfred  Kappes     John  P.  Davis     .  198 

MOUNT   ST.  HELENA. 
(From  a  Photograph)      ....    Alfred  Kappes    Bookhout  Bros.    202 

MOUNT   TAMALPAIS. 
(From  a  Sketch  by  W.  Keith)    .    W.H.Gibson     .   Horace  Baker       246 

MOUNT   DIABLO. 

(From  a  Sketch  by  W.  Keith)    .     W.  H.  Gibson      .  F.  S.  King  ...  250 

LOMA   PRIETA. 

(From  a  Sketch  by  W.  Keith)    .     W.  H.  Gibson      .  Meeder  &  Chubb  278 


A   WORD    BEFORE. 


The  only  aim  of  the  following  pages  is  to  present 
a  few  word-sketches  of  Californian  scenery-studies 
from  nature,  true  to  local  color  and  form,  and  barely 
indicating  the  salient  characteristics  of  plant  and  an- 
imal life  and  rocky  structure.  Those  who  love  nat- 
ure for  her  own  sake,  and  for  her  relations  to  the 
best  art,  will  sympathize  with  the  motive,  whatever 
may  be  the  imperfection,  of  these  sketches.  Some  of 
them  originally  appeared  in  the  "  Overland  Monthly," 
but  these  have  been  retouched  for  this  volume.  The 
closing  sketches,  under  the  titles  of  "  The  First  Peo- 
ple "  and  "  The  Trinity  Diamond,"  are  not  entirely 
descriptive  of  scenery,  but  introduce  the  figures  of 
the    Indians   and  the   roving  miners,  who  were    once 


IO  A    WORD  BEFORE. 

very  characteristic,  of  Californian  landscapes,  and  still 
remain  a  part  of  them.  All  of  the  illustrations  are 
after  drawings  or  photographs  from  nature,  the  for- 
mer made  by  artists  who  have  found  their  whole  in- 
spiration in  California,  and  who  are  helping  to  create 
there  an  original  school  of  art.  The  interspersed 
verses  make  no  poetical  pretensions.  They  are  in- 
tended only  as  pictures  in  rhyme,  and  not  finished 
pictures  at  that. 

It  should  be  stated  that  descriptions  of  some  of 
the  most  remarkable  scenery  in  California  —  such  as 
Yosemite,  the  Big  Tree  groves,  and  those  regions  of 
the  high  sierra  lying  in  the  southern  part  of  the 
State  —  are  purposely  withheld,  for  the  reason  that 
they  have  been  already  better  described  by  Prof.  J.  D. 
Whitney,  Clarence  King,  and  John  Muir,  have  been 
illustrated  and  written  about  by  scores  of  artists  and 
authors,  and  have  so  become  in  a  measure  hackneyed. 
It  was,  besides,  the  wish  of  the  present  writer  to  de- 
scribe what  was  most  familiar  and  recent  in  his  own 
experience.     So   much   admiration   has    been   lavished 


A    WORD  BEFORE.  II 

on  two  or  three  grand  features  of  the  State,  that  pict- 
uresque details  and  the  claims  of  less  celebrated  spots 
are  neglected.  Even  in  this  little  work  much  is 
overlooked  that  will  yet  employ  profitably  abler 
hands. 


CALIFORNIAN    PICTURES. 


NATURE   AND   ART. 

When  Art  was  young,  Pygmalion  formed 

A  marble  maid,  divinely  fair; 
Her  beauty  all  his  being  warmed, 

And  moved  him  to  enraptured  prayer: 

"  Oh,  leave  her  not  a  senseless  stone. 
Almighty  Jove,  enthroned  above  ! 
But  give  her  life  to  bless  my  own, 
Endow  her  with  the  soul  of  love  !  " 

Jove  heard,  and  smiled.     The  marble  flushed 
Like  snow-peak  at  the  coming  sun  : 
"  Pygmalion  !  "     Lo  !  she  spoke  and  blushed  ! 
And  thus  his  stainless  bride  he  won. 


14  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

And  ever  since  the  artist-touch 
Has  had  a  quick,  Promethean  fire, 

For  all  who  love  their  labor  much, 
Who  nobly  struggle  and  aspire. 

To  such  the  miracles  recur 

That  only  genius  works  at  will, 

That  seem  dead  images  to  stir, 
And  every  source  of  feeling  thrill. 

Thus  Nature  ever,  to  the  heart 
That  rightly  seeks  her,  answer  gives  ; 

In  every  master-work  of  Art 
A  portion  of  her  spirit  lives. 

The  templed  pile,  the  marble  shape, 
The  painted  tree,  the  stream,  the  sod, 

Are  only  forms  her  soul  to  drape  — 
For  "  Nature  is  the  art  of  God  !  " 

The  painter,  when  he  spreads  his  tints, 
That  only  mimic  what  is  real, 

If  Nature  guides  him,  nobly  hints 
Her  dearest  charm,  her  sweet  ideal. 


NATURE   AND   ART.  15 

The  rose  a  richer  beauty  takes 

From  hands  that  she  has  deftly  taught  ; 

The  violet  sweeter  perfume  makes 
When  Art  has  wedded  it  to  thought. 

0  Goddess  !    On  thy  altar  tops 

Of  awful  peaks  that  touch  the  blue, 
Where  every  snowy  gem  that  drops 
Unmelted  lies  in  stainless  hue, 

1  gaze  upon  thy  wide  domain 

From  mountain  unto  boundless  sea, 
And  listen  to  the  grand  refrain 
The  pillowed  forests  sing  to  thee  ; 

For  down  below,  in  circling  ranks, 

The  pines  uplift  their  branching  arms  ; 

And  farther,  on  the  river  banks, 

The  oaks  reveal  their  milder  charms. 

And  as  I  leave  the  dizzy  height, 

Returning  to  the  valley  mead, 
Gray  rocks  with  lichens  are  bedight, 

And  flowers  up-spring  of  lowly  breed. 


1 6  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

The  happy  creatures  of  the  wild 

Bound  from  the  thicket  on  my  way  — 

The  mother  doe,  the  fawn  her  child  — 
As  half  in  fright  and  half  in  play. 

By  springs  where  viny  tresses    cling, 
And  tuneful  gurgles  meet  the  ear, 

The  feathered  people  drink  and  sing, 
Or  seek  the  covert  in  their  fear. 

But  soon  the  cabin's  lazy  smoke 
I  see  above  the  orchard  curl ; 

And,  hark !  what  sound  the  silence  broke  ? 
The  jocund  laugh  of  boy  and  girl ! 

Around  and  round,  in  merry  rout, 
I  see  them  go,  as  though  to  play 

Were  all  of  life,  and  care  and  doubt 
Could  never  cloud  their  summer  day. 

The  oriole  her  pendent  nest 

Is  hanging  from  the  willow  bough  ; 

The  lark  with  joy  distends  his  breast, 
And  warbles  to  the  lowing  cow. 


NATURE  AND  ART.  I  7 

Thus  Nature  everywhere  repeats 

The  beauty  and  the  love  she  owns  ; 
From  hill  to  sea  her  rhythmic  beat 

Is  heard  in  many  blending  tones. 

And  Art,  her  handmaid,  catches  up 

The  glory  of  each  sound  and  sight, 
To  pour  them  from  her  magic  cup, 

A  draught  to  steep  us  in  delight. 


A  WILD  NOSEGAY. 


Sweet-scented  messengers  from  landscape  green, 
Thy  presence  is  a  blessing  in  my  cot, 
A  still  memento  of  each  sunny  spot, 
Or  shaded,  where  my  wandering  feet  have  been 
In  search  of  thee.     The  winding,  wet  ravine, 
Luxuriant  with  golden  flowers ;   the  grot 
Beneath  the  live-oak,  where  small  blossoms  dot 
The  mossy  rock,  and  humming-birds  are  seen 
To  flash  and  quiver  through  the  tremulous  leaves 
Of  snowy  buckeye ;  and  the  mountain  steep 
Or  wooded  summit,  where  sad  zephyr  grieves 
Forever  through  the  branches  of  the  pine;  — 
All  helped  to    form  thee,  and  thou  still  dost  keep 
Their  charms  before  me,  which  I  blend  with  thine. 


MOUNTAIN,  LAKE,  AND  VALLEY. 


In  attempting  a  general  introductory  view  of  the 
scenography  of  California,  we  shall  be  aided  by  an  out- 
line of  its  topography.  The  materials  for  this  are  to 
be  found  mainly  in  the  preliminary  report  upon  the 
geology  of  California  by  Prof.  J.  D.  Whitney.  Before 
the  great  work  conducted  by  him  was  begun,  hardly 
fourteen  years  ago,  there  was  little  exact  knowledge 
of  the  physical  structure  of  the  Golden  State.  Its 
broadest  features  were  known  in  a  general  way  ;  but 
some  of  the  most  remarkable  regions  were  unexplored, 
and  a  mass  of  interesting  details  had  been  only  casu- 
ally observed,  if  at  all.  An  adventurous  and  daring 
people,  engaged  in  the  stimulating  search  for  gold, 
had  revealed  the  secrets  of  many  places  which  would 


20  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

else  be  blank  spaces  on  the  maps ;  but  the  area  of  a 
territory  larger  than  New  England,  New  York,  and 
Pennsylvania  combined,  and  embracing  two  mount- 
ain chains  surpassing  in  some  respects  the  Alps 
and  Appalachians,  could  not  be  thoroughly  explored 
and  accurately  described  without  concerted  effort  to 
that  end.  When  that  effort  —  temporarily  abandoned 
through  a  freak  of  ignorant  legislation  —  shall  be  re- 
sumed and  completed,  we  shall  have,  in  a  series  of 
valuable  reports  even  now  far  advanced,  ample  mate- 
rial for  special  studies.  In  the  mean  time,  even  such 
a  mere  sketch  as  we  shall  offer  of  the  valley  and 
lake  system  of  California  may  prove  interesting  to 
the  general  reader.  The  topography  of  California  is 
characterized  by  a  grand  simplicity.  Two  mountain- 
chains —  the  Coast  Range  and  the  Sierra  Nevada  — 
outline  the  form  of  the  State ;  the  one  extending  along 
the  Pacific  shore,  on  its  western  side  ;  the  other,  along 
its  eastern  border,  overlooking  the  great  basin  of  the 
middle  continent ;  and  both  interlocking  north  and 
south,  inclosing  the  broad,  level  valleys  of  the  Sacra- 


MOUNTAIN,    LAKE,   AND    VALLEY.  2  1 

mento  and  San  Joaquin.  The  axial  lines  of  these 
chains  have  a  northwesterly  and  southeasterly  course. 
They  are  clearly  distinguished  between  the  thirty- 
fifth  and  fortieth  parallels  —  the  valleys  named,  which 
have  a  length  of  nearly  three  hundred  and  fifty  miles, 
and  a  breadth  of  from  forty  to  eighty  miles,  separating 
the  two  systems  completely.  North  and  south  of  the 
limits  named,  the  Coast  Range  and  the  Sierra  Nevada 
are  topographically  one,  distinguishable  only  by  geo- 
logical differences ;  the  former  having  been  uplifted 
since  the  cretaceous  deposition,  and  the  latter  before 
that  epoch.  The  Coast  Range  is  inferior  in  altitude, 
averaging  only  from  two  thousand  to  six  thousand  feet 
above  the  sea,  and  having  few  prominent  peaks.  It 
extends  the  whole  length  of  the  State,  say  seven  hun- 
dred miles,  and  has  an  aggregate  width  of  forty  miles ; 
but  it  is  broken  into  numerous  minor  ridges,  marked 
by  striking  local  differences,  and  separated  by  an  ex- 
tensive series  of  long,  narrow  valleys,  which  are  usu- 
ally well  watered,  level,  fertile,  and  lovely.  The  Sierra 
Nevada   has    an   altitude   of   from   four   thousand    to 


22  CALIF0RN1AN  PICTURES. 

twelve  thousand  feet,  and  an  average  width  of  eighty 
or  one  hundred  miles.  It  rises  from  the  central  valley 
in  solid  majesty,  reaching  by  a  gradual  slope  its  double 
crests,  which  culminate  in  a  nearly  straight  line  of 
peaks  extending  a  distance  of  five  hundred  miles. 
There  is  no  peak  in  the  Coast  Range  which  rises 
above  eight  thousand  feet.  The  Sierra  Nevada  has 
a  hundred  peaks  which  rise  about  thirteen  thousand 
feet,  and  at  least  one  which  soars  fifteen  thousand 
feet.  Where  the  two  ranges  join  at  the  north  (lati- 
tude forty  degrees,  thirty-five  minutes),  Mount  Shasta, 
which  may  be  taken  as  a  point  of  connection,  attains 
an  elevation  of  fourteen  thousand  four  hundred  and 
forty  feet.  Its  snowy  summits  can  be  seen  from  great 
distances  in  Oregon,  California,  and  Nevada,  and  is 
nearly  twice  the  height  of  any  other  mountain  in  its 
vicinity.  As  the  Sierra  Nevada  extends  southward 
from  this  point,  it  gradually  increases  its  general  alti- 
tude. For  three  hundred  miles  the  passes  range  from 
four  thousand  to  eight  thousand  feet  above  the  sea, 
and  the   peaks  from    one    thousand    to    two  thousand 


MOUNTAIN,  LAKE,  AND    VALLEY.  23 

feet  higher.  But  from  latitude  thirty-eight  degrees, 
for  a  distance  of  two  hundred  miles  along  the  summit, 
there  is  no  pass  known  lower  than  eleven  thousand 
feet,  and  within  that  distance  all  the  chief  peaks  have 
an  elevation  of  thirteen  thousand  feet. 

The  summits  of  the  Coast  Range  are  only  occasion- 
ally whitened  with  snow  in  the  winter.  Those  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada  are  covered  with  it  every  winter  to  a 
great  depth,  and  on  some  of  them  it  never  melts.  The 
Coast  Range  rises  with  tolerable  abruptness  facing 
the  sea,  its  inner  Line  of  ridges  sloping  gradually  to 
the  central  valley.  The  Sierra  Nevada  has  a  gradual 
ascent  on  its  western  side,  but  an  abrupt  one  on  its 
eastern,  the  latter  being  only  half  as  long  as  the  for- 
mer, since  it  meets  the  elevated  plateau  of  Nevada  or 
Utah,  four  thousand  to  five  thousand  feet  above  the 
sea.  The  Coast  Range  is  broken  near  its  centre,  at 
the  Golden  Gate,  where  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco 
receives  and  discharges  the  waters  of  the  Sacramento 
and  its  tributaries,  forming  the  rive/  system  of  the 
whole  northern   interior ;   and  those  of  the   San   Joa- 


24  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

quin,  forming  the  river  system  of  the  southern  inte- 
rior as  far  as  the  Alpine  region  of  the  Sierra.  The 
Sierra  Nevada  is  unbroken  in  its  whole  length,  al- 
though  the  table-lands  and  depressions  at  its  north- 
ern and  southern  extremities  are  nearly  on  the  level 
of  the  plateau  to  the  eastward,  and  offer  the  easiest 
wagon  and  railroad  approaches  from  that  side.  The 
most  striking  feature  of  the  vegetation  of  the  Coast 
Range  is  its  majestic  groves  of  redwood,  which  flour- 
ish only  in  the  foggy  regions  north  of  San  Luis 
Obispo,  and  in  connection  with  a  soil  overlying  a 
metamorphic  sandstone.  The  inner  ridges  of  the 
Coast  Range  are  frequently  bare,  or  covered  chiefly 
with  varieties  of  oak,  interspersed  with  the  madrofia, 
remarkable  for  its  smooth,  bronzed  trunk,  its  curling 
bark,  and  its  waxen  leaves.  When  not  tree-clad,  these 
inner  ridges,  to  a  height  of  from  five  hundred  to  twen- 
ty-five hundred  feet,  are  covered  with  wild  oats,  and 
suggest  the  idea  of  immense  harvest-fields  that  have 
been  thrust  up  by  volcanic  energy,  and  left  standing 
high  in  the  blue  air.     As  the  state  geologist  says  : 1 

1  Yosemiie  Guide-book,  p.  35. 


MOUNTAIN,  LAKE,  AND    VALLEY.  25 

"  What  gives  its  peculiar  character  to  the  Coast  Range 
scenery  is,  the  delicate  and  beautiful  carving  of  their 
masses  by  the  aqueous  erosion  of  the  soft  material  of 
which  they  are  composed,  and  which  is  made  conspic- 
uous by  the  general  absence  of  forest  and  shrubby 
vegetation,  except  in  the  canons  and  along  the  crest 
of  the  ranges.  The  bareness  of  the  slopes  gives  full 
play  to  the  effects  of  light  and  shade  caused  by  the 
varying  and  intricate  contour  of  the  surface.  In  the 
early  spring  these  slopes  are  of  the  most  vivid  green, 
the  awakening  to  life  of  the  vegetation  of  this  region 
beginning  just  when  the  hills  and  valleys  of  the  East- 
ern States  are  most  deeply  covered  by  snow.  Spring 
here,  in  fact,  commences  with  the  end  of  summer ; 
winter  there  is  none.  Summer,  blazing  summer,  tem- 
pered by  the  ocean  fogs  and  ocean  breezes,  is  fol- 
lowed by  a  long  and  delightful  six  months'  spring, 
which  in  its  turn  passes  almost  instantaneously  away, 
at  the  approach  of  another  summer.  As  soon  as  the 
dry  season  sets  in,  the  herbage  withers  under  the  sun's 
rays,  except  in  the  deep  canons ;  the  surface  becomes 


26  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

first  of  a  pale  green,  then  of  a  light  straw  yellow, 
and  finally,  of  a  rich  russet-brown  color,  against  which 
the  dark  green  foliage  of  the  oaks  and  pines,  unchang- 
ing during  the  summer,  is  deeply  contrasted."  The 
most  striking  feature  of  the  regetation  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada  is  its  magnificent  growth  of  pines,  comprising 
several  species  which  attain  a  height  of  from  one 
hundred  and  fifty  to  three  hundred  feet,  and  the 
famous  groves  of  Sequoia  gigantca,  which  equal  in 
height,  if  not  in  age,  the  pyramids  of  Egypt.  The 
prominent  lithological  feature  of  the  Coast  Range  is 
the  prevalence  of  metamorphic  cretaceous  rocks.  The 
lithological  structure  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  is  more 
primitive,  granite  being  the  prominent  feature,  under- 
lying a  greater  part  of  its  extensive  beds  of  auriferous 
gravel,  and  giving  an  air  of  gray  desolation  to  its 
naked  summits,  which  bear  the  marks  of  ancient  gla- 
ciers. The  Sierra  Nevada  is  also  distinguished  for 
the  evidences  it  presents  of  the  tremendous  forces 
that  raised  it  at  three  successive  epochs  above  the  sea. 
A  hundred  volcanoes  have  blazed  along  its  crest,  and 


MOUNTAIN,  LAKE,  AND    VALLEY.  2J 

have  covered  with  lava  an  area  of  not  less  than 
twenty  thousand  square  miles,  not  uniformly  level  or 
sloping,  but  seamed  with  canons  hundreds  or  thou- 
sands of  feet  deep,  through  which  flow  the  living 
streams  of  the  Sierra.  Sometimes  this  lava  overlies, 
and  at  others  underlies,  the  deposits  of  gold-bearing 
gravel  wrought  by  the  miner.  Sometimes  the  erup- 
tive rocks,  contemporaneous  with  its  flow,  rise  in 
picturesque  crags  that  rival  in  height  the  summits 
of  the  older  granite. 

This  glance  at  the  mountain  frame-work  of  Cal- 
ifornia is  necessary  to  an  understanding  of  its  lake 
and  valley  system.  The  chief  feature  of  this  system 
is  the  central  valley  of  the  Sacramento  and  San 
Joaquin,  supplemented  at  the  south  by  the  valleys 
of  the  Tulare  and  Kern.  These  valleys  form  a  basin 
about  four  hundred  miles  long  by  fifty  or  sixty  miles 
wide,  which  was  anciently  the  site  of  lacustrine  or 
marine  waters.  In  its  northern  portion  rises  abruptly 
from  the  level  plain  a  singular  local  mountain  ridge, 
known  as  Sutter's  Buttes,  which  is  an  object  of  beauty 


28  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

in  the  landscape  views  of  that  region,  and  seems,  in 
the  flooded  seasons,  like  an  island  in  the  main.  North 
of  the  Buttes  the  valley  gently  swells  to  meet  the 
foot-hills  of  the  blending  Sierra  and  Coast  Range ; 
and  these  uplands  consist  of  a  red  and  gravelly  soil, 
whereas  the  general  surface  of  the  valley  southward  is 
a  rich,  deep  loam,  which  has  frequently  been  known 
to  yield  from  sixty  to  seventy  bushels  of  wheat  to  the 
acre.  The  climate  of  this  fertile  basin  is  very  warm 
in  summer,  and  favorable  to  the  out-door  growth  of 
roses  and  strawberries  in  winter.  It  is  timbered  at 
intervals  with  open  parks  of  oaks,  which  become 
more  numerous  near  the  foot-hills  on  either  side,  and 
there  mix  with  inferior  conifers  and  minor  vegetable 
forms,  including  the  characteristic  manzanita,  buckeye, 
and  laurel.  The  principal  rivers  are  fringed  with 
sycamore,  oak,  cottonwood,  willow,  alder,  and  white 
maple.  Sweet-briers  bloom  close  to  the  streams,  and, 
where  the  timber  has  not  been  cut  away,  the  wild 
grape-vine  still  hangs  its  graceful  curtains,  through 
which   the    boatman    catches    glimpses    of    beautiful 


MOUNTAIN,  LAKE,  AND    VALLEY.  29 

woodland  or  valley  scenes,  and  a  far  background  of 
hazy  mountains.  Immense  tracts  are  annually  cov- 
ered with  a  luxuriant  growth  of  wild  oats,  which,  alter- 
nately green  or  gold,  according  to  the  season,  rolls  its 
surface  in  rippling  light  and  shade  under  every  breeze. 
The  moist  bottoms  yield  heavy  crops  of  grass.  In 
the  spring,  the  whole  surface  of  these  valleys,  where 
not  cultivated,  is  thickly  covered  with  wild  flowers  of 
every  color ;  and  the  scene  of  this  gay  parterre,  bro- 
ken with  seas  of  verdant  grain,  and  bounded  by  walls 
of  blue  or  purple  mountains,  whose  peaks  are  capped 
with  snow,  is  quite  entrancing.  These  charming 
plains  were  the  favorite  resort  of  the  aborigines,  who 
found  in  the  streams  that  drain  them  plenty  of  salmon, 
sturgeon,  and  lesser  fish,  and  all  over  their  extent 
herds  of  antelope  and  elk,  and  myriads  of  ducks  and 
geese,  besides  quail,  doves,  hares,  rabbits,  and  squir- 
rels. The  grizzly  would  sometimes  come  from  the 
hills  to  eat  fish  and  berries  ;  but  he  was  game  beyond 
the  skill  of  the  simple  savages  who  once  enjoyed  the 
central    valley   alone.     Into    the   rivers   discharge   the 


30  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

numerous  channels  which  cut  the  western  slope  of 
the  Sierra,  receiving  the  heavy  rains  that  wash  its 
flanks,  and  the  melting  of  the  deep  snows  upon  its 
summit,  and  almost  annually  the  accumulated  torrents 
overflow  portions  of  the  level  land. 

There  are  no  lakes  in  the  central  valley,  except  in 
its  lower  extremity,  where  Tulare  Lake,  thirty-three 
miles  long  by  twenty-two  wide,  surrounded  by  a  broad 
area  of  reedy  marshes,  forms  the  mysterious  sink  for 
all  the  streams  coursing  down  the  western  slope  of 
the  southern  Sierra.  The  general  features  of  the 
valleys  in  Fresno,  Tulare,  and  Kern  counties,  are  not 
essentially  different  from  those  of  the  Sacramento  and 
San  Joaquin,  which  they  supplement.  The  chief 
point  of  difference  is  their  hydrography.  There  are 
considerable  tracts  of  marsh  land  in  the  larger  val- 
leys named,  but  they  are  formed  by  the  rivers  and 
estuaries  of  the  central  bay ;  while  those  of  the  lower 
valleys  are  an  adjunct  of  the  lakes,  about  which 
they  comprise  an  area  of  fully  two  hundred  and  fifty 
square  miles. 


MOUNTAIN,  LAKE,  AND    VALLEY.  3 1 

Most  of  the  streams  of  the  central  valley  flow  from 
the  Sierra  Nevada.  A  dozen  principal  branches  of 
the  Sacramento  and  San  Joaquin  rivers,  and  the  riv- 
ers that  sink  in  the  Tulare  Lake,  are  fed  alone  a  dis- 
tance  of  four  hundred  miles,  from  Shasta  to  Tejon, 
by  several  hundred  tributaries  which  rise  in  that 
great  chain.  In  the  same  distance  a  few  score  of 
creeks  flow  eastward  from  the  inner  ridges  of  the 
Coast  Range,  to  the  central  basin,  and  some  of  these 
are  dry  in  the  summer.  The  small  rivers  of  the 
Coast  Range  flow  through  the  intervales,  emptying 
either  into  the  ocean  at  right  angles  to  the  trend  of 
the  coast,  or  following  the  valleys  parallel  with  the. 
trend  till  they  reach  some  of  the  bays  that  make 
inland. 

The  valleys  in  the  Coast  Range  are  numerous  and 
dissimilar,  though  possessing  some  marked  character- 
istics in  common.  Those  of  one  class  lie  open  to  the 
sea,  and  are  usually  narrow,  with  a  trend  nearly  east 
and  west,  or  following  that  of  the  coast.  Most  of 
them  are  found  south  of  the    Bay  of   San   Francisco, 


32  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

itself  skirted  by  a  series  of  valleys  which  slope  from 
the  base  of  the  Mount  Diablo  range.  The  largest 
of  the  coast  valleys  is  the  Salinas,  in  the  Santa  Cruz 
and  Monterey  district.  It  is  about  ninety  miles  long 
by  eight  to  fourteen  miles  wide,  mostly  arable,  and 
yielding  heavy  crops  of  wild  oats  and  clover.  Al- 
though the  open  coast  valleys  are  subject  to  the  winds 
and  fogs,  they  possess  a  fine  climate,  and  are  cultivated 
to  the  very  margin  of  the  sea.  It  is  a  beautiful  sight 
to  behold  their  grassy  margins  skirting  the  crescent 
lines  of  small  bays,  or  their  wide  fields  of  yellow  grain 
contrasting  with  the  blue  line  of  the  ocean,  while  be- 
hind rise  the  rumpled  velvet  of  bare  hills,  tawny  or 
verdant,  with  the  season,  and  the  farther  crests  of 
cloud-girt  summits  bristling  with  redwood  forests  that 
keep  moist  in  the  salty  air.  Perhaps  the  most  pict- 
uresque valley  that  opens  to  the  sea,  though  it  meets 
the  ocean  only  at  its  extremity,  is  Russian  River  Val- 
ley, north  of  San  Francisco.  It  is  long  and  narrow, 
has  a  generally  level  but  sometimes  rolling  surface, 
is   traversed   by  a  clear  stream,  and  bounded  on  either 


MOUNTAIN,  LAKE,  AND    VALLEY.  33 

hand  by  ridges,  which  have  a  great  variety  of  form. 
Its  groves  of  oak,  its  picturesque  knolls,  its  vistas  of 
conical  peaks,  its  winding  stream,  alternately  placid 
and  rapid,  its  luxuriant  carpet  of  grass,  grain,  and 
flowers,  have  long  made  it  a  favorite  sketching  re- 
sort for  artists.  The  valleys  of  Mendocino,  still  far- 
ther north,  are  smaller,  but  possess  scenery  of  more 
grandeur,  and  are  remarkable  for  the  number  of 
streams  that  flow  through  them  to  the  sea.  Humboldt 
County,  also,  has  some  picturesque  valleys,  that  look 
out  upon  the  sea,  or  line  the  bay  which  bears  the 
name  of  the   author  of  "  Cosmos." 

The  inner  series  of  Coast  Range  valleys  is  the  most 
extensive.  While  the  outer  valleys  are  generally  sep- 
arated by  abrupt  and  treeless  ridges,  those  inland 
are  divided  by  gentler  elevations,  which  are  covered 
by  trees  or  clad  with  grass  and  wild  oats.  The  inner 
valleys,  again,  lie  parallel  to  the  trend  of  the  coast. 
They  are  commonly  oblong,  nearly  level,  or  rolling 
like  the  Western  prairies,  extremely  fertile,  and  have 
a  climate  more  sheltered  from  the  sea-wind  and  fog. 
3 


34  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

Among  the  most  celebrated  of  these  are  the  So- 
noma, Napa,  Santa  Rosa,  Suisun,  Vaca,  Berreyesa,  and 
Clear  Lake,  north  of  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco,  and 
some  of  them  communicating  with  it ;  and  the  Ala- 
meda, Santa  Clara,  Amador,  Pajaro,  and  San  Juan,  to 
the  east  or  south  of  the  bay.  An  enumeration  of  all 
the  coast  valleys  distinctively  known,  would  be  a  tedi- 
ous task.  They  are  the  favorite  nestling  places  of  our 
population,  as  they  were  the  favorite  sites  of  the  Mis- 
sion Fathers,  and  offer  examples  of  the  most  elaborate 
cultivation,  the  most  contentment,  and  the  greatest 
thrift.  Seldom  more  than  three  or  four  miles  wide, 
often  not  more  than  one,  they  are  in  length  from  five 
to  fifty.  Their  gently  rolling  surfaces  rise  into  mound- 
like hills  on  either  side,  —  the  best  soil  for  the  wine- 
grape,  —  which  in  turn  are  flanked  by  ridges  or  peaks 
from  five  hundred  to  perhaps  three  thousand  feet  high. 
The  creeks  with  their  dark  green  belts  of  timber, 
often  live-oak,  wind  through  continuous  harvest-fields. 
Many  of  the  farm-houses  are  prettily  built  on  knolls 
that  command    a  good  view.     Nothing    can    be    finer 


MOUNTAIN,    LAKE,    AND    VALLEY.  35 

than  the  aspect  of  many  of  these  valleys,  when  the 
lush  verdure  of  the  early  spring  is  prodigally  gemmed 
with  wild  blossoms  of  the  most  brilliant  colors,  or 
when  the  rich  gold  of  their  summer  fields,  islanded 
with  the  clumps  of  evergreen  oaks,  is  contrasted  with 
the  purple  or  blue  mountain,  and  the  sky  at  morning 
or  evening  brightens  or  fades  through  tints  of  amber 
and  amethyst.  Sometimes  the  splendor  of  the  setting- 
sun  seems  to  penetrate  the  dark  substance  of  the 
solid  hills,  and  give  them  a  transparent  glow,  as  if 
they  yet  burned  with  the  heat  of  their  thrusting  up. 
As  light  comes  in  the  spring  or  summer,  the  trees  are 
vocal  with  linnets,  while  larks  sing  in  the  fields,  and 
chanticleer  sounds  his  horn.  As  day  goes,  it  is  pleas- 
ant to  hear  the  birds  calling  to  repose,  the  wild  doves 
cooing,  the  quails  fondly  signaling  their  mates,  the  owl 
adding  his  solemn  note  to  the  vespers  of  the  feathered 
tribe.  One  thinks  of  the  day  when  a  native  genera- 
tion will  love  these  mountain-walled  valleys,  with  their 
wealth  of  varied  scenery  and  resources,  as  ardently  as 
the  "  pioneers  "  loved  the  home-spots  which  they  left 


36  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

in  the  East  or  in  Europe.  Poetry  and  song  and  ro- 
mance will  come  at  last  to  link  the  spells  of  imagina- 
tion and  fancy  to  those  of  memory  and  affection,  and 
"  home  "  will  exist  here  as,  in  the  fond  old  meaning 
of  the  most  characteristic  English  word,  it  exists  now 
for  so  few. 

The  coast  valleys  are  too  near  the  level  of  the  ocean, 
and  the  mountains  surrounding  them  are  too  broken, 
to  contain  many  lakes.  Few  are  known  which  deserve 
description  ;  but  one  of  these,  in  Lake  County,  about 
eighty  miles  north  of  San  Francisco,  is  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  and  lovely  in  the  State.  It  is  called  Clear 
Lake,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that,  owing  to  its  shallow- 
ness and  the  easy  disturbance  of  its  muddy  bottom  by 
winds,  it  is  scarcely  ever  clear.  Seen  from  an  elevation, 
however,  as  it  reflects  the  color  of  a  seldom-clouded 
sky,  it  loses  nothing  by  comparison  with  purer  sheets 
of  water.  It  is  a  pity  that  its  Indian  name  of  Lup 
Yomi,  whatever  its  meaning,  could  not  be  substituted 
for  its  present  commonplace  title.  Clear  Lake  lies  in 
a  valley  between  two  ridges  of  the  Coast  Range,  thirty- 


MOUNTAIN,   LAKE,  AND    VALLEY.  2>7 

six  miles  from  the  ocean,  and  has  a  length  of  twenty- 
five  miles  by  a  width  of  from  two  to  ten  miles.  Its 
elevation  above  the  sea  is  about  fifteen  hundred  feet. 
The  region  surrounding  it  is  ruggedly  mountainous, 
and  embraces  an  ancient  volcanic  centre.  St.  Helena, 
at  the  head  of  Napa  Valley,  to  the  south,  and  the 
highest  peak  between  San  Francisco  and  the  lake,  is 
an  extinct  volcano,  and  the  evidences  of  its  former  ac- 
tivity are  abundant  for  many  miles  in  every  direction. 
Midway  between  this  peak  and  the  lake  are  the  famous 
geysers,  and  mineral  springs  and  deposits  are  frequent 
throughout  the  whole  region.  For  several  miles  the 
road  approaching  the  valley  from  the  direction  of 
Napa  passes  over  a  mountain  largely  of  obsidian. 
The  cuttings  through  this  material  reveal  it  boldly ; 
the  undisturbed  surface  is  covered  with  boulders  and 
cobbles  of  it,  and  in  the  roadway  it  is  ground  into 
pebbles  and  sand.  A  deluded  person  who  was  con- 
vinced that  it  was  glass  and  could  be  readily  manu- 
factured, once  sank  considerable  money  in  a  vain 
attempt    to   convert    it  into  bottles.     On  the  western 


38  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

shore  of  the  lake,  not  far  from,  the  base  of  this  obsid- 
ian mountain,  is  Borax  Lake,  a  small  and  shallow 
pond  remarkable  for  the  large  percentage  of  borax 
contained  in  its  waters  and  muddy  bed.  Extensive 
deposits  of  sulphur  are  also  found  in  the  vicinity. 
The  inclosing  ridges  are  peculiarly  rugged,  and  the 
conical  peaks  numerous.  One  of  these,  called  Uncle 
Sam,  rises  abruptly  from  the  edge  of  the  water  to  a 
height  of  twenty-five  hundred  feet,  dividing  the  lake 
into  two  parts,  Upper  and  Lower.  Near  the  upper 
end  of  the  lake  Mount  Ripley  attains  an  elevation  of 
three  thousand  feet,  and  farther  off  rises  Mount  St. 
John,  nearly  four  thousand  feet.  Still  higher  peaks, 
on  the  northeastern  side,  bearing  aboriginal  names, 
are  often  covered  with  snow,  and  at  such  times  the 
traveler  descending  to  the  lake  from  the  west,  and 
seeing  these  white  peaks  beyond  the  blue  expanse  and 
green  margin  of  meadow  and  grove,  is  reminded  of 
Switzerland  and  the  Alps.  Where  not  volcanic  the 
rocks  are  cretaceous,  and  abound  in  fossils.  Ridges 
of  serpentine    occur,  which    are    richly   charged    with 


MOUNTAIN,    LAKE,    AND    VALLEY.  39 

quicksilver.  Formerly  the  lake  must  have  filled  the 
whole  valley,  covering  even  the  low  ranges  of  adja- 
cent sand-hills,  which  afford  every  mark  of  recent 
denudation,  and  are  eroded  into  mound-like  forms  of 
striking  regularity.  Upper  Lake  is  nine  miles  wide; 
Lower  Lake  is  much  narrower,  but  contains  several 
pretty  rounded  islets,  bearing  a  golden  harvest  of 
wild  oats,  shaded  by  orchard-like  white  oaks,  and  still 
partly  occupied  by  Indians,  who  live  chiefly  on  the 
trout,  pike,  and  black  fish  which  they  catch  in  the 
water,  and  the  ducks,  geese,  and  other  wild  fowl 
which  tenant  its  reedy  shores.  Deer  and  bear  abound 
in  the  well-wooded  mountains.  Several  streams  put 
into  the  lake,  and  one  flows  from  its  lower  extrem- 
ity, emptying  into  Cache  Creek,  a  tributary  of  the 
Sacramento.  Northeast  of  Uncle  Sam  lies  a  fine 
valley,  the  seat  of  a  thrifty  community.  Its  rich  loam 
bears  a  noble  growth  of  ancient  and  mighty  oaks, 
among  which  nestle  sundry  villages. 

In  the  northern  part  of  California,  where  the  Coast 
Range    and    Sierra  Nevada    interlock,  the    system    of 


40  CAL1F0RNIAN  PICTURES. 

valleys  is  confused  and  difficult  to  describe.  Yet  it 
may  be  said^  that  they  preserve  the  oblong  form  and 
level  surface  which  characterizes  the  entire  family  of 
Pacific  valleys.  The  upper  part  of  the  Coast  Range 
proper,  extending  to  and  including  the  Humboldt  Bay 
country,  comprises  a  noble  series  of  pastoral  and  agri- 
cultural valleys,  watered  by  streams  rich  in  salmon 
and  flanked  by  mountains  which  are  covered  with 
forests  of  the  stately  redwood.  Some  of  these  valleys 
were  the  scenes  of  conflicts  with  Indians  for  manv 
years,  and  owe  their  sparseness  of  population  partly 
to  this  cause  and  partly  to  their  isolation.  In  rugged 
Trinity  County  there  are  only  a  few  small  valleys 
along  the  water-courses.  In  Klamath  County,  the 
largest  valley  is  Hoopa,  thirty  miles  long  and  two 
wide,  at  the  junction  of  Trinity  and  Klamath  rivers. 
Del  Norte  has  a  number  of  small,  fertile  valleys.  Sis- 
kiyou has  the  largest  valleys  of  any  of  the  northern 
counties.  They  seem  to  be  intimately  connected  with 
the  plateau  east  of  the  Sierra,  and  to  have  some  of  its 
characteristics.    Scott  Valley,  forty  miles  long  by  seven 


MOUNTAIN,    LAKE,    AND    VALLEY.  4 1 

wide,  lies  between  the  Trinity  and  Salmon  ranges, 
which  are  six  thousand  feet  high,  the  valley  itself  hav- 
ing an  altitude  of  three  thousand  feet,  and  possessing 
a  climate  more  like  that  of  some  of  the  Northern 
States  than  the  lower  valleys  of  California.  Surprise 
Valley,  in  the  extreme  northeastern  part  of  the  State 
and  overlying  the  Nevada  boundary,  is  sixty  miles 
long  by  fifteen  wide.  It  has  an  elevation  even  greater 
than  Scott  Valley,  but  it  is  as  fertile  as  it  is  lovely. 
Its  ample  surface  is  finely  watered,  and  covered  with 
a  rank  growth  of  native  clover  and  grass,  on  which 
feed  immense  flocks  of  wild  geese  and  brant  in  their 
season.  On  its  east  side  are  three  beautiful  lakes, 
which  extend  nearly  its  whole  length,  and  cover  al- 
most half  its  surface.  They  contain  no  fish,  but  are 
the  resort  of  great  quantities  of  ducks,  geese,  cranes, 
pelicans,  and  other  wild  fowl.  They  receive  a  number 
of  small  streams,  but  have  no  outlet.  Shasta  and  Elk 
valleys  are  lava  plains,  three  thousand  to  three  thou- 
sand seven  hundred  feet  above  the  sea.  They  are  re- 
markable only  for    the  fine  views    they    command    of 


42  CALIF0RN1AN  PICTURES. 

Mount  Shasta,  and  the  former  for  the  numerous  small 
volcanic  cones  that  dot  its  surface.  The  Shasta  re- 
gion is  only  the  southern  extremity  of  that  vast  vol- 
canic territory  which  includes  the  famous  Modoc  lava 
beds,  and  which,  extending  into  Idaho  and  eastern 
Oregon,  including  the  country  drained  by  the  Co- 
lumbia and  Snake  rivers,  embraces  an  area  of  nearly 
three  hundred  thousand  square  miles,  which  is  over- 
laid with  lava  hundreds  and  thousands  of  feet  thick, 
covering  ancient  forests  and  mammoth  skeletons. 

Siskiyou  County  contains  a  number  of  large  lakes 
besides  those  in  Surprise  Valley.  Its  total  lake 
surface  is  equal  to  half  a  million  acres.  Klamath 
Lake,  the  source  of  Klamath  River,  lies  partly  in  this 
county  and  partly  in  Oregon.  Eastward  from  it,  lying 
wholly  in  Siskiyou,  are  Goose,  Rhett,  and  Wright 
lakes,  which  are  the  sources  of  several  rivers  travers- 
ing the  northern  counties  of  California,  including  the 
Trinity,  Salmon,  and  Pitt.  The  last  named  river  de- 
bouches from  Goose  Lake,  which  is  thirty  miles  long 
and  sixty  wide,  and  is  surrounded  by  a  fertile  valley 
of  thirty  or  forty  thousand  acres. 


MOUNTAIN,    LAKE,    AND    VALLEY.  43 

Leaving  Siskiyou,  whose  vales  and  plateaus,  sterile 
plains  of  lava,  and  wide  but  shallow  sheets  of  water, 
have  an  elevation  of  from  three  thousand  to  four  thou- 
sand feet  above  the  sea,  we  reach  the  simple  topog- 
raphy of  the  Sierra,  with  its  regular  ridges  leading  to 
lofty  peaks,  and  divided  by  profound  canons.  Here 
one  would  scarcely  expect  to  find  valleys  ;  yet  there 
are  hundreds  of  small  valleys  in  the  lofty  chain,  many 
of  which  are  inhabited  and  cultivated.  One  series  of 
valleys,  and  these  are  the  smallest,  lie  along  the  water- 
courses on  the  western  flank  of  the  Sierra,  at  right 
angles  to  the  trend  of  the  range,  and  frequently  form- 
ing the  passes  by  which  it  is  crossed.  Another  series 
lie  between  the  double  crests  of  the  summit,  parallel 
to  the  trend  of  the  chain.  The  valleys  on  the  two 
flanks  form  convenient  roadways,  and  were  followed 
by  the  first  emigrants  to  California.  The  famous 
Beckworth,  Henness,  and  Truckee  routes  across  the 
Sierra  Nevada  all  lie  through  a  succession  of  such 
small  intervales,  reaching  on  either  side  of  the  Sierra 
to    an    open    and    level    pass.     The    Pacific     Railroad 


44 


CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 


crosses  the  Sierra  partly  by  the  aid  of   these  natural 
road-beds,  following  the  course  of  the  Truckee  down 


Yosemite   Falls,   from    Glacier   Point. 

the    eastern    slope.     The    most    remarkable    of    these 
transverse    valleys    partake    of    the    nature    of   gorges. 


MOUNTAIN,  LAKE,    AND    VALLEY.  45 

One  of  them,  the  Yosemite,  has  a  world-wide  celeb- 
rity. The  valley  itself  is  an  almost  level  area,  about 
eight  miles  long  and  from  half  a  mile  to  a  mile  in 
width.  Its  elevation  above  the  sea  is  four  thousand 
feet,  and  the  cliffs  and  domes  about  it  are  from 
seven  thousand  to  nine  thousand  feet  above  the  sea, 
with  an  altitude  above  the  valley  of  from  three  to 
five  thousand  feet.  Over  these  vertical  walls  of  bare 
granite  tumble  the  Merced  River  and  its  forks.  Most 
of  the  canons  and  valleys  of  the  Sierra  have  resulted 
from  denudation,  and  some  have  been  partly  shaped 
and  marked  by  glaciers  ;  but  Professor  Whitney  thinks 
that  this  mighty  chasm  has  been  roughly  hewn  in  its 
present  form  by  the  same  kind  of  forces  which  have 
raised  the  crest  of  the  Sierra  and  moulded  the  surface 
into  something  like  their  present  shape.  He  conceives 
the  domes  were  formed  by  the  process  of  upheaval 
itself,  and  says  that  the  half  dome  was  split  asunder 
in  the  middle,  the  lost  half  having  gone  down  in  what 
may  truly  have  been  said  to  have  been  "  the  wreck  of 
matter   and    the  crash  of   worlds."     John    Muir,  who 


46  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

combines  the  feeling  of  a  poet  with  the  patient  obser- 
vation of  a  scientist,  and  who  spent  several  years  of  re- 
search in  this  part  of  the  Sierra,  contends,  on  the  con- 
trary, that  glacial  action  was  the  main  force  which 
sculptured  this  wonderful  fane  of  nature.  Another 
gorge,  which  is  inferior  only  to.  the  Yosemite,  is  found 
at  the  sources  of  the  Tuolumne  River,  still  farther  in 
the  heart  of  the  Sierra.  Its  vertical  cliffs  would  be 
unique  in  the  mountain  scenery  of  the  world,  were 
Yosemite  unknown.  It  is  here  that  the  tourist  ap- 
proaches the  Alpine  region  of  California.  The  sum- 
mit of  the  pass  leading  into  Tuolumne  Valley  is  nine 
thousand  and  seventy  feet  above  the  sea,  and  the  de- 
scent to  the  river  is  only  about  five  hundred  feet. 
Tenaya  Valley,  between  Yosemite  and  Tuolumne,  con- 
tains a  beautiful  lake  by  the  same  name,  a  mile  long 
and  half  a  mile  wide.  A  hisfh  rid^e  near  this  lake 
commands  a  fine  view  of  Cathedral  Peak,  which  Pro- 
fessor Whitney  describes  as  a  lofty  ridge  of  rock  cut 
down  squarely  for  more  than  one  thousand  feet  on  all 
sides,  and  with  a  cluster  of  pinnacles  at  one  end,  rising 


MOUNTAIN,    LAKE,    AND    VALLEY.  47 

several  hundred  feet  above  the  rest  of  the  mass.  It 
is  at  least  two  thousand  five  hundred  feet  above  the 
surrounding  plateau  and  eleven  thousand  feet  above 
the  sea.  At  the  head  of  Lake  Tenaya  rises  a  conical 
knob  of  bare  granite,  eight  hundred  feet  high,  its  sides 
finely  polished  and  grooved  by  former  glaciers.  The 
upper  Tuolumne  drains  a  richly  turfed  valley  half  a 
mile  or  a  mile  wide,  and  fifteen  miles  long,  and  con- 
taining some  noted  soda  springs.  The  valley  has  an 
elevation  of  from  eight  thousand  six  hundred  to  nine 
thousand  eight  hundred  feet.  In  this  vicinity  are  the 
most  remarkable  evidences  of  the  former  glacial  svs- 
tern  of  California.  The  whole  region  rapidly  rises  till 
it  meets  the  dominating  peaks  of  the  King's  River 
country. 

The  highest  of  the  transverse  valleys  is  Mono  Pass, 
which  is  ten  thousand  seven  hundred  and  sixty  feet 
above  the  sea;  and  the  most  elevated  pass  used  by 
travelers  is  the  Union.  In  a  canon  at  the  eastern 
side  of  this  pass  are  several  small  lakes,  not  less  than 
seven    thousand   feet    above    the    sea,  which  are    pro- 


48  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

duced,  like  many  of  the  lakes  of  the  high  Sierra,  by 
the  damming  of  the  gorge  by  the  terminal  moraines 
left  by  the  retreating  glaciers.  Mount  Dana  is  the 
culminating  point  of  the  Sierra  in  the  region  of  the 
upper  Tuolumne.  It  has  an  altitude  of  thirteen  thou- 
sand two  hundred  and  twenty-seven  feet.  To  the  east 
of  it,  only  six  miles,  but  nearly  seven  thousand  feet 
below,  lies  Mono  Lake,  a  body  of  water  fourteen  miles 
long  from  east  to  west,  and  nine  miles  wide,  highly 
charged  with  mineral  salts,  void  of  all  life  except  the 
countless  larvae  of  a  small  fly,  sluggish  and  dreary 
in  appearance,  and  surrounded  by  strong  tokens  of 
smouldering  volcanic  agencies,  among  which  is  a  clus- 
ter of  truncated  cones. 

Below  the  region  of  the  high  Sierra  in  Southern 
California,  the  valleys  or  table-lands  connect  with  the 
Nevada  plateau,  or  Great  Basin,  and  are  mainly  of 
the  same  character  —  arid,  alkaline,  and  barren.  The 
streams  flowing  east  or  west  are  bordered  by  narrow 
strips  of  level  land,  supporting  tuft  grasses,  willows, 
and   cottonwoods,  but    offering   little  inducement  for 


MOUNTAIN,    LAKE,    AND    VALLEY.  49 

settlement.  There  are  numerous  salt  lakes  and  ponds. 
The  largest  of  these  is  Owen's  Lake,  twenty-two  miles 
long  and  eight  wide.  In  the  same  region,  lying  partly 
in  San  Bernardino  and  partly  in  Inyo  counties,  be- 
tween Owen's  Lake  and  the  Nevada  line,  is  Death 
Valley.  This  remarkable  depression  is  the  lower  sink 
of  the  Amargosa  River,  and,  although  situated  in  the 
high  Sierra,  it  is  actually  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
below  the  level  of  the  sea.  The  soil  is  a  thick  bed  of 
salt,  and,  doubtless,  the  depression  was  formerly  occu- 
pied by  a  lake.  All  the  salt  lakes  of  the  region  we 
have  described  have  marked  in  terraces  their  former 
larger  dimensions,  and  are  evidently  in  process  of 
gradual  extinction.  This  portion  of  the  Sierra  has 
been  frequently  disturbed  by  violent  earthquakes 
within  a  few  years  past.  Some  of  these  shocks  have 
been  followed  by  a  rise  in  the  waters  of  Owen's  Lake, 
which  continued  until  it  had  overflowed  thousands  of 
acres,  and  then  suddenly  abated,  the  lake  resuming 
its  usual  size. 

While  the  valleys  and  lakes  of  the  Tuolumne  and 


50  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

King's  River  region  present  altogether  the  strongest 
and  grandest  features,  those  between  this  region  and 
the  sources  of  Feather  River  northward  are  the  most 
pleasant.  All  the  rivers  in  this  stretch  of  coun- 
try flow  partly  through  small  valleys  ;  but  the  larger 
valleys  are  those  of  the  summit,  lying  between  the 
crests  of  the  Sierra,  or  on  its  flank,  from  three  thou- 
and  to  seven  thousand  feet  above  sea  level,  while  the 
ridges  that  inclose  them  on  the  east  and  west  rise 
from  one  thousand  five  hundred  to  three  thousand 
feet  higher.  The  largest  of  these  valleys  lie  at  the 
sources  of  the  Feather  River,  in  Plumas  and  Lassen 
counties,  connecting  with  easy  approaches  from  the 
Nevada  plateau,  and  offering  low  and  comparatively 
snowless  passes  for  winter  transit  of  the  mountain. 
Honey  Lake  Valley,  in  Lassen,  contains  about  twenty 
thousand  acres  of  meadow  and  arable  land,  is  one  of 
the  lowest  in  altitude,  and  possesses  a  mild  winter 
climate.  The  lake  from  which  it  is  named  is  twelve 
by  five  miles  in  dimensions,  of  irregular  form,  and 
constantly  decreasing  size.      It  is  really  an  independ- 


MOUNTAIN,   LAKE,   AND    VALLEY.  5 1 

ent  basin,  lying  east  of  the  Sierra  crests,  and  receives 
the  water  of  two  rivers.  The  valley  is  sixty  miles 
long  by  fifteen  to  twenty  wide.  It  is  named  from  the 
quantity  of  honey-like  liquid  deposited  plentifully  on 
the  grass  and  shrubs  by  a  species  of  bee  peculiar  to 
dry  and  barren  countries.  Eagle  Valley  contains  a 
shallow  and  irregular  lake,  about  twelve  miles  long  by 
eight  wide.  Long  Valley,  in  the  southern  part  of  the 
county,  is  about  forty  miles  long  by  two  or  three  wide, 
quite  level,  and  notable  for  its  superior  pasturage. 
Southward  of  this  valley,  the  summit  valleys  decrease 
in  size  with  increase  of  altitude.  While  the  Lassen 
and  Plumas  valleys  are  only  from  three  thousand  to 
four  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  those  in  Sierra,  Ne- 
vada, Placer,  El  Dorado,  and  other  counties  to  the 
southward,  are  from  five  thousand  to  seven  thousand 
feet  high.  A  third  small  lake  in  Lassen,  called  Sum- 
mit Lake,  has  an  altitude  of  five  thousand  eight  hun- 
dred feet,  with  a  little  strip  of  level  land.  Plumas 
contains  nearly  a  score  of  valleys  that  are  fertile, 
sheltered,    and    populous,    lying  on    the    upper    tribu- 


52  CALIFORNIA 'N  PICTURES. 

taries  of  Feather  River,  and  embracing  an  aggregate 
of  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  acres  of  good 
land.     The  snows  are  light  in  these  valleys. 

All  the  lesser  summit  valleys  have  characteristics  in 
common,  varying  chiefly  as  to  size  and  altitude.  They 
are  usually  long  and  narrow,  covered  with  a  luxuriant 
growth  of  natural  grasses,  watered  by  small  willow- 
fringed  streams  that  flow  either  west  or  east,  gemmed 
by  small  lakes,  and  framed  by  more  or  less  rugged 
ridges,  bearing  thick  forests  of  pine  and  fir  to  near 
their  summits,  which  are  bare  crags  of  gray  granite, 
covered  for  a  great  part  of  the  year  with  snow.  The 
discovery  of  silver  in  Nevada,  in  1859,  and  the  subse- 
quent settlement  of  that  State,  brought  these  valleys 
into  notice  and  use.  Before  that  event,  they  were 
mostly  resorted  to  by  drovers  for  summer  pasturage, 
cattle  being  driven  thither  from  the  parched  plains  of 
California  in  summer,  and  brought  back  on  the  ap- 
proach of  winter.  At  a  later  day  their  grasses  were 
cut  for  hay,  to  be  sold  in  Nevada,  and  to  way-travelers. 
Many   of  them   lay  directly  in    the    numerous    routes 


MOUNTAIN,    LAKE,    AND    VALLEY.  53 

leading  from  California  to  the  silver  regions,  and  began 
to  be  appropriated  by  settlers  for  ranching  and  lumber 
purposes.  Finally  the  building  of  the  Pacific  Railroad 
has  given  many  of  them  special  value,  and  some  of 
them  are  becoming  places  of  great  resort  for  summer 
tourists,  invalids,  and  artists.  It  is  certain  that  most  of 
them  will  soon  be  occupied  by  permanent  commu- 
nities, and  that  the  Sierra  Nevada  will  ultimately 
contribute  a  stream  of  hardy  life  to  counteract  the 
enervating  effect  of  extreme  heat  in  the  lowlands  of 
California.  Their  summer  climate  is  delightfully  tem- 
perate and  bracing ;  their  winter  climate  cold,  but  sel- 
dom extremely  so.  Those  which  are  most  sheltered, 
and  not  too  high,  produce  whatever  will  mature  in 
New  England.  In  others,  the  growing  season  is  too 
short  for  much  effective  cultivation;  but  lumbering, 
mining,  and  quarrying  will  furnish  employment  for 
considerable  settlements,  and  markets  for  the  products 
of  more  favorable  s'pots. 

The  most  attractive  feature   of    the    lesser   summit 
valleys  is  their  multitude  of  clear,  fresh  lakes,  stocked 


54  CALIFORNJAN  PICTURES. 

with  the  finest  trout,  surrounded  by  magnificent  groves 
of  pine  and  fir,  reflecting  snowy  peaks,  and  beautiful 
with  all  the  colors  of  changing  day  and  evening.  Con- 
cerning this  charming  feature,  less  has  been  reported 
than  of  any  other.  A  standard  authority  on  the  phys- 
ical features  of  California  has  even  made  the  broad 
assertion  that  the  Sierra  Nevada  contains  very  few 
lakes.  This  mistake  was  natural ;  for,  aside  from  the 
singular  salt  or  alkali  lakes  in  the  volcanic  regions 
of  the  Sierra,  north  and  south,  together  with  the  few 
large  fresh-water  lakes  already  enumerated  in  this 
article,  the  lakes  of  the  Sierra  have  not  been  mapped 
or  described.  On  no  popular  chart  of  this  range  are 
more  than  twenty  or  thirty  lakes  indicated,  whereas 
the  existence  of  at  least  two  hundred,  in  a  distance  of 
four  hundred  miles,  from  Siskiyou  to  Kern,  can  be 
positively  vouched  for  ;  and  this  number  is  probably 
within  the  truth,  as  it  will  be  developed  by  future  ex- 
plorations. These  lakes  are  the  sources  of  the  nu- 
merous rivers  that  have  eroded  the  deep  canons  of 
the  western  slope,  and  of  the  few  which  flow  eastward. 


MOUNTAIN,    LAKE,    AND    VALLEY.  55 

They  are  the  reservoirs  of  the  melting  snows  —  the 
sources  of  summer  supply  for  hundreds  of  miles  of 
mining  ditches.  Some  are  sunk  deep  in  rocky  chasms, 
without  level  or  meadow  land  surrounding  them. 
Others  have  been  formed  by  glacial  moraines  dam- 
ming up  the  gorges  that  would  else  have  been  only 
the  channel  of  streams.  Nearly  all  have  been  larger 
and  deeper  than  now.  Some  are  no  larger  than  the 
petty  tarns  of  the  English  hills  ;  while  others  would 
float  a  navy,  and  can  mimic  the  commotion  of  the  sea. 
Sierra  County  contains  twenty  or  more  small  lakes, 
situated  in  the  depressions  of  the  summit,  generally 
circular  in  form,  from  half  a  mile  to  a  mile  across, 
and  varying  in  depth  from  a  few  feet  to  ten  or  twenty 
fathoms.  The  largest,  Gold  Lake,  about  four  miles 
long  by  two  wide,  is  famous  as  the  scene  of  falsely 
reported  deposits  of  lump  gold,  which,  in  1849-50, 
attracted  and  disappointed  a  multitude  of  miners. 
Nevada  County,  next  adjoining  Sierra  on  the  south, 
is  still  richer  in  lakes,  containing  at  least  thirty.  Four 
of  these  are  notable  as  the  sources  of  supply  for  one 


50  CAL1F0RNIAN  PICTURES. 

of  the  most  extensive  mining  canals  in  the  State,  — 
that  of  the  Eureka  Lake  and  Yuba  Canal  Company. 
The  trunk  canal  of  this  company  is  sixty-five  miles 
long.  Its  principal  supply  reservoir  is  Eureka  Lake. 
This  originally  had  an  area  of  only  one  square  mile, 
but  an  artificial  dam  of  granite  across  the  outlet,  one 
hundred  and  twenty  feet  long  at  the  base,  two  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  long  at  the  top,  and  seventy  feet  deep, 
has  doubled  the  surface  of  the  lake,  and  given  it  an 
average  depth  of  sixty-five  feet.  Lake  Faucherie, 
with  a  wooden  dam  thirty  feet  high,  floods  two  hun- 
dred acres.  Two  smaller  lakes  with  these  feed  a 
canal  eight  feet  wide  by  three  and  a  half  feet  deep, 
and  furnish  water  for  some  of  the  heaviest  deep- 
gravel  mining  in  the  State.  The  South  Yuba  Canal 
Company  has  utilized  five  lakes  in  another  part  of 
Nevada  County.  One  of  these,  Meadow  Lake,  is 
enlarged  by  a  solid  masonry  dam,  which  is  forty-two 
feet  high  and  eleven  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long,  and 
makes,  when  full,  a  sheet  about  two  miles  long  by 
half  a  mile  wide,  with  a  depth  varying,  according  to 


MOUNTAIN,    LAKE,    AND    VALLEY.  S7 

the  season,  from  ten  to  thirty  fathoms.  Seven  miles 
in  a  southeasterly  direction  are  White  Rock,  Devil's 
Peak,  and  two  smaller  lakes  which,  jointly,  equal  the 
capacity  of  Meadow  Lake.  Devil's  Peak  Lake  lies 
close  to  the  Pacific  Railroad.  These  reservoirs  are 
drawn  into  the  channel  of  the  South  Yuba,  when 
that  stream  runs  low  in  the  summer,  and  thence  pass 
through  fifty  miles  of    ditching. 

The  works  of  the  two  companies  named  cost  an 
aggregate  of  several  million  dollars.  When  they  cease 
to  be  wanted  for  mining  purposes,  they  will  serve  to 
irrigate  countless  gardens  and  vineyards  on  the  lower 
slopes  of  the  Sierra.  Meadow  Lake  gives  a  name  to 
a  large  township  which  is  remarkable  for  being  one  of 
the  highest  mining  localities  in  California,  as  for  the 
great  size  and  number  of  its  gold  and  silver  ledges. 
The  general  altitude  of  the  district  is  from  seven  thou- 
sand to  eight  thousand  feet,  and  contains  about  twenty 
lakes.  Snow  fell  there  in  the  winter  of  1866-67  to 
the  depth  of  twenty-five  feet,  yet  many  daring  people 
remained  and   mined  through  the  season,  and  several 


58  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

towns  are  growing  up.  Within  the  district  are  Crystal 
and  Donner  lakes  —  the  former  one  of  the  most  pict- 
uresque resorts  in  the  Sierra ;  the  latter  having  a 
beauty  of  another  kind,  and  being  remarkable  as  the 
scene  of  a  painful  tragedy  in  the  early  settlement  of 
the  State.  Donner  Lake  is  three  miles  long  by  one 
wide.  It  lies  in  sight  from  the  eastern  end  of  the 
summit  tunnel  of  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad,  one 
thousand  five  hundred  feet  below  that  point  and  five 
thousand  five  hundred  feet  above  the  sea.  A  small 
stream  pours  from  it  into  the  Truckee  River,  only 
three  miles  eastward,  watering  a  narrow  valley.  Here, 
late  in  October,  1846,  a  party  of  eighty  overland  im- 
migrants, under  the  lead  of  Captain  Donner,  and  in- 
cluding over  thirty  women  and  children,  were  over- 
taken by  a  snow-storm,  which  prevented  them  from 
proceeding.  They  suffered  terribly  in  their  winter 
camp,  or  while  wandering  blindly  searching  an  outlet, 
until  found  by  relief  parties  from  the  western  side  of 
the  mountains,  in  February.  In  the  sequel,  thirty- 
seven   perished  from  exposure  and  hunger,  and  some 


MOUNTAIN,    LAKE,   AND    VALLEY.  59 

of  the  party  were  only  sustained  by  the  last  dreadful 
resort  of  starving  humanity.  The  locomotive  now  al- 
most hourly  passes  the  scene  of  this  tragedy,  awak- 
ing clanging  echoes  among  the  dizzy  cliffs  of  bare 
granite  through  which  its  way  is  cut.  Hundreds  of 
people  live  in  or  about  the  valley  the  whole  year;  and 
hard  by  thirty  saw-mills  are  busy  thinning  out  the 
noble  forests  that  deck  the  steep  slopes  on  every  side. 
A  congeries  Gf  small  lakes  is  found  to  the  south- 
ward  of  the  Pacific  Railroad  where  it  crosses  the  sum- 
mit, each  of  which  has  its  peculiar  charms,  and  its 
special  friends  among  the  tourists,  who  begin  to  seek 
these  sylvan  sheets  through  the  warm  season.  They 
lie  from  six  thousand  to  seven  thousand  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea,  where  the  snow  falls  commonly 
ten  feet  deep,  and  stays  from  November  or  December 
until  July,  with  lingering  patches  sometimes  on  the 
peaks  above  until  the  next  winter.  Some  of  these 
lakes  are  appropriated  for  ice  supplies  to  the  lower 
country.  Rude  hotels  have  been  erected  near  a  few, 
to  accommodate  the  visitors  who  go  there  to  fish, 
sail,  sketch,  and  recuperate. 


6o  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

All  the  lakes  of  Sierra  and  Nevada  counties,  except 
one  or  two,  —  like  Donner,  which  lies  on  the  eastern 
side  of  the  summit,  or  Truckee,  which  is  just  over  the 
line  of  gradual  eastern  descent  in  the  Henness  Pass, 
and  feeds  Little  Truckee  River,  —  are  sources  of  the 
numerous  tributary  streams  that  feed  and  form  the 
Yuba  River,  or  the  northern  forks  of  the  American. 
Another  congeries  of  small  lakes  in  Placer  and  El 
Dorado  counties  feed  the  larger  forks  of  the  American 
and  Cosumnes,  and  supply  an  extensive  system  of 
mining  canals.  The  South  Fork  Canal,  one  of  the 
largest  of  these  works,  having  a  length  of  one  hundred 
and  forty-two  and  a  half  miles,  is  partly  supplied  from 
Silver,  Red,  and  Willow  lakes,  which  store  up  together 
nearly  three  hundred  and  fifty  million  cubic  feet  of 
water.  Some  of  this  goes  to  irrigate  the  vineyards  for 
which  the  high,  red  hills  of  El  Dorado  are  becoming 
celebrated.  Through  the  whole  middle  tier  of  mining 
counties,  from  Siskiyou  to  Mariposa,  the  summit  lakes 
are  more  or  less  drawn  upon  to  fill  artificial  channels, 
and  ai'd  in  the  extraction  of  gold  and  the  cultivation 


MOUNTAIN,    LAKE,    AND    VALLEY.  6 1 

of  the  soil.  Their  names  make  a  long  list,  and  sug- 
gest their  picturesque  qualities,  —  as  Silver,  Crystal, 
Cascade,  Emerald,  Grass,  Fallen  Leaf,  Tule,  Willow, 
Mirror,  Alder,  Palisade,  etc.  Many  are  named  from 
the  peaks  that  overlook  them,  from  the  wild  animals 
or  birds  that  frequent  them,  from  the  circumstances 
of  their  discovery,  or  from  the  persons  who  first  took 
up  abodes  near  them.  The  most  extensive  and  cele- 
brated of  the  whole  group  is  Lake  Tahoe,  in  El  Do- 
rado County,  only  fifteen  miles  southwardly  from  Don- 
ner  Lake  and  the  line  of  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad. 
Its  elevation  above  the  sea,  exceeding  six  thousand 
feet;  its  great  depth,  reaching  a  maximum  of  more 
than  one  thousand  five  hundred  feet ;  its  exquisite 
purity  and  beauty  of  color ;  the  grandeur  of  its  snowy 
mountain  walls;  its  fine  beaches  and  shore  groves  of 
pine,  —  make  it  the  most  picturesque  and  attractive  of 
all  the  California  lakes.  Profound  as  it  is,  it  is  won- 
derfully transparent,  and  the  sensation  upon  floating 
over  and  gazing  into  its  still  bosom,  where  the  granite 
boulders  can   be  seen  far,  far  below,  and  large  trout 


62  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

dart  swiftly,  incapable  of  concealment,  is  almost  akin 
to  that  one  might  feel  in  a  balloon  above  the  earth. 
The  color  of  the  water  changes  with  its  depth,  from 
a  light,  bluish  green,  near  the  shore,  to  a  darker  green, 
farther  out,  and  finally  to  a  blue  so  deep  that  artists 
hardly  dare  put  it  on  canvas.  When  the  lake  is  still, 
it  is  one  of  the  loveliest  sights  conceivable,  flashing 
silvery  in  the  sun,  or  mocking  all  the  colors  of  the 
sky,  while  the  sound  of  its  soft  beating  on  the  beach 
is  like  the  music  of  the  sea-shell.  When  the  wind 
angers  its  surface,  its  waves  are  dangerous  to  buffet. 
The  sail  that  would  float  over  its  still  face  like  a 
cloud  is  then  driven  like  fate,  and  is  lucky  to  escape 
destruction.  Sometimes  the  dense  ranks  of  tall  pines, 
firs,  and  cedars  extend  to  the  shore  and  are  reflected 
in  the  placid  sheet.  There  is  always  some  new  beauty 
to  see,  and  one  scarcely  knows  which  is  most  delight- 
ful, —  to  float  over  the  deep  blue  element  that  kisses 
his  bark,  or  to  wander  along  the  sandy  beach  and 
through  the  surrounding  woods,  thinking  of  the  power 
that  reared  this  noble  range  and  gemmed  its  deep 
gorges  with  such  scenes  of  witchery. 


A   MEMORY  OF   THE   SIERRA. 


My  heart  is  in  the  mountains,  where 
They  stand  afar  in  purple  air. 
Up  to  their  peaks  and  snowy  founts 
In  happy  dreams  my  spirit  mounts. 
Their  ridges  stretch  unto  the  plain, 
Like  arms,  to  draw  me  up  again  ; 
The  plain  itself  a  pathway  is 
To  lead  me  to  remembered  bliss. 

I  hear  the  brown  larks  tune  their  lay, 
And  little  linnets,  brown  as  they, 
Fill  up  the  intervals  with  sweet 
Enticement  to  their  green  retreat. 
I  hear  the  wild  clove's  note  forlorn, 
The  piping  quail  beneath  the  thorn, 
The  squirrel's  busy  chip  and  stir, 
The  grouse's  sudden  heavy  whir, 


6/J  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

The  cawing  of  the  white-winged  crow, 
And  chatter  of  the  jays  below. 

I  stand  within  the  cloistered  shade 
By  columned  fir  and  cedar  made, 
And  up  the  minster-mocking  pine 
I  gaze  along  the  plummet  line 
Of  mighty  trunks,  whose  leafy  tops 
Distill  a  spray  of  diamond  drops, 
Whene'er  the  sunlight  chances  through 
Their  high  mosaic  of  green  and  blue. 
I  hear  a  sound  that  seems  to  be 
An  inland  murmur  of  the  sea, 
Yet  know  it  is  the  tuneful  moan 
Of  wind-touched  forest  harps  alone. 

I  wander  to  the  dizzy  steep 

That  plunges  into  canon  deep, 

And  where  the  obscuring  hazes  hint 

The  amethyst  and  violet's  tint. 

I  see  along  the  cloudless  sky 

My  dear-loved  peaks,  serene  and  high  ■ 

So  cold  at  morn,  but  warmly  bright 

With  flushes  of  the  evening  light. 


A   MEMORY  OF  THE   SIERRA.  65 

The  very  eagles  hate  to  leave 
These  heights  sublime,  but  fondly  cleave 
In  circling  flights  about  the  crests 
Where  they  have  built  their  lonely  nests. 

Perched  on  these  crags,  the  world  below 
Melts  in  the  hazy  summer's  glow  ; 
Hid  are  its  gloomy  sounds  and  sights 
From  all  who  reach  these  templed  heights, 
Where,  Moses-like,  the  soul  bespeaks 
The  highest  good  its  rapture  seeks. 


UP  THE  WESTERN  SLOPE. 


The  grandest  of  all  the  mountain  ranges  on  the 
western  side  of  the  United  States  is  the  Sierra  Nevada. 
This  range  from  Mount  Shasta,  at  the  north,  where  it 
blends  with  the  Coast  Range,  to  Mount  Whitney,  at 
the  south,  beyond  which  point  it  breaks  off  into  irregu- 
lar formations  that  finally  slope  to  the  deserts,  is  about 
five  hundred  miles  long.  Its  western  slope,  which  is 
at  least  one  hundred  miles  long  on  any  grade  fit  for 
travel,  is  covered  below  an  elevation  of  seven  thousand 
feet  with  the  most  magnificent  coniferous  forests  on 
the  continent,  embracing  the  wonderful  groves  of  Se- 
quoia gigantea.  These  forests  extend  to  the  foot-hill 
region,  a  belt  of  gently  rounded  mountains  and  level 
table-lands,   where  the    prevailing  larger  growths    are 


UP  THE    WESTERN  SLOPE.  67 

deciduous  and  evergreen  oaks,  the  digger  or  nut  pine, 
ceanothus,  syringa,  manzanita,  buckeye,  and  poison- 
oak.  The  foot-hills  gradually  melt  into  the  broad 
plains  of  the  Sacramento  and  San  Joaquin,  only  fifty 
or  sixty  feet  above  tide-level,  which  sweep  their  flat 
surfaces  of  emerald  or  golden  harvests  clear  to  the 
base  of  the  purple  Coast  Range,  rising  hazy  in  the 
distant  air  of  the  Pacific.  This  placid  region  suc- 
ceeds the  tumultuous  ruggedness  of  the  higher  ridges 
like  a  calm  after  a  storm.  Until  the  lower  foot-hills 
are  reached,  the  Sierra  Nevada,  on  this  slope,  seems 
to  break  down  in  long,  regular  ridges,  the  outlines  of 
which,  at  right  angles  to  the  trend  of  the  range,  are 
drawn  straightly  across  the  sky,  presenting  massive 
but  precise  forms,  more  grand  than  picturesque.  But 
these  ridges  are  divided  by  canons  eroded  by  ice  and 
water,  having  a  depth  of  one  thousand  to  three  thou- 
sand or  four  thousand  feet,  whose  walls  are  often 
precipitous  cliffs,  and,  even  where  clad  with  soil  and 
forest,  usually  very  steep.  These  canons,  with  the 
streams   which  flow   through    them,    head    up    in    the 


68  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

snowy  summit  of  the  range,  where  they  often  open 
into  meadow  valleys,  as  the  summit  itself,  double- 
crested  along  much  of  its  course,  holds  still  larger 
valleys,  which  open  into  the  great  plateau  of  Nevada 
at  either  extremity  of  the  range.  While  the  general 
elevation  is  from  seven  thousand  to  ten  thousand  feet, 
it  is  crowned  by  a  multitude  of  peaks  which  reach 
altitudes  all  the  way  from  eleven  thousand  to  fifteen 
thousand  feet,  and  on  which  the  snow  never  entirely 
melts.  Composed  of  splintered  crags  of  granite, 
where  the  granite  is  not  overlaid  by  even  more  irregu- 
larly cut  volcanic  rocks,  the  sky  outline  of  the  snowy 
summit  is  sharply  serrated.  Hence  the  Spanish  name 
of  Sierra  Nevada,  even  more  appropriate  to  this  range 
than  to  that  lesser  one  in  Granada  which  originally 
bore  it. 

The  comparatively  timberless  eastern  slope  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada,  with  its  infrequent  streams  and  monot- 
onous gray  stretches  of  wild  sage,  plunges  abruptly 
down  to  the  Nevada  plateau.  A  descent  of  about  two 
thousand  five  hundred  feet,  in  a  distance  of  fifty  miles, 


UP  THE    WESTERN  SLOPE.  69 

is  all  there  is  of  this  slope,  the  plateau  itself  having  an 
elevation  of  four  thousand  or  five  thousand  feet  and 
extending  with  its  irregular  mineral  ridges  to  the  Salt 
Lake  basin  and  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Thus  on  one 
side  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  are  verdure  and  fertility, 
—  the  summer  charm  of  a  semi-tropical  clime,  with  its 
varied  and  abundant  products,  its  poetic  beauty  of 
scenery,  and  its  keenly  sensuous  joy  in  vitality ;  while 
on  the  other  are  barrenness  and  sterility,  naked  mount- 
ains, monotonous  and  often  desert  plains,  where  nat- 
ure looks  desperately  unfinished,  and  gives  every  sign 
of  rigorous  struggle,  without  amenity  or  repose.  The 
traveler  from  the  east  enjoys  this  vivid  contrast  so 
quickly  realized  —  this  rapid  exchange  of  arid  wastes 
for  luxuriant  woods  and  fields ;  but  the  transition 
going  from  the  west  chills  and  depresses,  except  at 
evening,  when  the  sage-brush  plains  and  treeless 
mountains  of  Nevada  are  transformed  by  the  alchemy 
of  color,  and  kindle  into  beauty.  Probably  the  pas- 
sage of  no  other  mountain  range  of  equal  magnitude 
affords  so  much  scenic  enjoyment,  at  so  slight  an  ex- 


70  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

penditure  of  energy,  as  the  Pacific  Railroad  makes 
daily  practicable.  To  know  the  summit  of  the  range 
thoroughly,  one  must  of  course  leave  the  railroad  — 
must  explore  on  horseback  and  afoot  the  wonder- 
ful gorge  of  Yosemite,  and  the  equally  wonderful 
Tuolumne  canon,  with  the  lesser  Yosemite,  Hetch- 
Hetchy ;  must  go  to  the  Kern  River  region,  where 
a  hundred  peaks  rise  from  twelve  thousand  to  four- 
teen thousand  feet,  and  Mount  Whitney  soars  one 
thousand  feet  higher,  overtopping  Shasta  and  every 
other  peak  in  the  United  States  outside  of  Alaska, 
unless  the  Colorado  Mountains  shall  prove  to  contain 
a  higher  point ;  and  must  also  go  to  Mount  Lassen 
with  its  ancient  crater  and  hot  lakelet,  and  to  the 
isolated  cone  of  Shasta,  most  lovely  and  interesting 
of  all  the  great  peaks.  But  the  railroad  summit  pre- 
sents enough  of  the  grand  and  picturesque,  and  suffi- 
ciently illustrates  the  character  of  the  range,  to  repay 
a  special  trip,  if  that  were  the  only  one  the  tourist 
should  make  to  the  high  Sierra. 

Leaving   Sacramento,  rimmed  about  with   its  iron- 


UP  THE    WESTERN  SLOPE.  71 

clad  levee  and  fringes  of  willow  thicket,  only  fifty- 
six  feet  above  the  tide-level,  the  Central  Pacific  Rail- 
road reaches  the  first  swell  of  the  Sierra  within  eisfht 
miles  to  the  eastward,  and  in  one  hundred  and  five 
miles  makes  the  summit  in  Donner  Pass,  seven  thou- 
sand and  forty-two  feet  above  the  sea.  In  the  spring 
—  say  from  February  or  March  to  June  —  a  trip  to 
the  summit  is  especially  striking  for  the  sharp  con- 
trast between  the  Eden-like  beauty  of  the  lower  coun- 
try and  the  Arctic  pallor  of  the  region  within  the 
snow-belt.  The  plains  of  Sacramento,  where  they  are 
not  broken  with  the  plow  or  sown  with  grain,  are  cov- 
ered with  a  profuse  growth  of  many-colored  wild  flow- 
ers, most  brilliant  of  which  is  the  California  poppy  (Pa- 
pavera  Eschscholtzia),  whose  deep  orange  cups  flame 
out  in  sunny  splendor  where  they  are  massed  in  large 
tracts,  and  are  seen  in  glowing  contrast  by  patches 
of  blue  lupin  and  larkspur.  On  this  gay  parterre 
flourish  at  intervals  park-like  groves  of  large  oaks, 
deciduous  and  evergreen,  with  huge  bunches  of  mis- 
tletoe tangled  in  their  leafy  tresses,  their  gray  trunks 


72  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

circled  at  the  base  with  flowers  that  court  their  shade, 
recalling  the  myth  of  the  fairy  dancing-ring.  The 
common  brown  meadow-lark,  and  the  equally  plain 
linnet,  make  these  gay  scenes  vocal  with  unfailing 
song.  The  atmosphere  is  singularly  clear  and  pure; 
the  sky  a  soft  and  tender  blue,  suggestive  of  infinite 
space ;  the  whole  influence  of  the  landscape  and  the 
season  intoxicating.  And  the  floral  profusion  extends 
to  the  rolling  foot-hills,  albeit  the  reddish  tint  of  the 
soil  shows  through  its  vernal  dressing,  and  a  few  low- 
land pines  begin  to  dispute  the  sway  of  the  smaller 
oaks.  The  ceanothus,  or  California  lilac,  with  its 
honey-breathing  bloom,  here  comes  in  a  thick  under- 
brush, mixed  with  the  manzanita,  whose  smooth  limbs 
are  as  red  as  a  cherry,  and  whose  thick  leaves  are  as 
stiff  as  wax.  Groups  of  buckeye  rise  in  higher  masses 
of  lighter  green,  relieved  by  spikes  of  small  blossoms, 
that  bristle  all  over  them. 

This  is  pretty  much  the  character  of  the  Sierra 
foot-hills  up  to  the  edge  of  the  snow-line,  say  twenty- 
five  hundred    to    three    thousand   feet   above  the  sea, 


UP   THE    WESTERN  SLOPE.  73 

where  begin  the  coniferous  woods  which  stretch  up 
to  the  base  of  the  highest  peaks,  and  where  one  gets 
the  first  fine  outlook  over  the  wild  valleys  below,  the 
first  glimpses  of  blue  canon  on  either  side,  and  the 
first  view  of  those  long  straight  ridges  which  lead  up 
to  the  crest  of  the  range  by  gradations  at  once  easy 
and  stupendous.  During  the  spring  months  the  veg- 
etation between  the  plains  and  the  coniferous  belt  is 
very  bright  and  fresh,  and  there  is  no  dust.  Later, 
when  shrub  and  grass  are  dry  and  russet-colored, 
and  the  red  or  brown  soil  rises  in  clouds,  making 
the  hot  air  oppressive  to  the  traveler,  there  is  a  pre- 
vailing olive  color  in  the  underbrush,  and  even  in 
the  trees,  especially  the  oaks,  until  the  pines  and  firs 
lift  their  tops  in  lofty  bowers  of  fresh  and  vivid  green, 
carpeting  the  soil  softly  with  their  needles,  while  their 
cuir-colored  trunks  form  stately  colonnades,  through 
which  the  sun  shoots  long  beams  of  gold  rayed  like 
the  chariot-wheels  of  Phoebus. 

The  portion  of  the  lower  Sierra  thus  far  sketched 
is  the   region   of  the    gold  deposits.      Here    lie  those 


74  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

great  bands  of  slate,  veined  with  quartz,  whose  degra- 
dation was  the  source  of  the  precious  metal  distributed 
through  the  overlying  drift,  in  the  channels  of  modern 
streams,  in  the  beds  of  ravines,  and  on  the  summits 
and  slopes  of  hills.  Here  the  chocolate-colored  riv- 
ers, choked  for  a  hundred  feet  deep  with  mining  de- 
bris, attest  the  destructive  activity  of  the  gold-hunters. 
Every  ravine  and  gulch  has  been  sluiced  into  deeper 
ruts  or  filled  with  washings  from  above.  Lofty  ridges 
have  been  stripped  of  auriferous  gravel  for  several 
continuous  miles  together,  to  a  depth  of  from  one 
hundred  to  two  hundred  feet.  Cataracts  of  mud  have 
replaced  these  foaming  cascades  which  used  to  gleam 
like  snow  in  the  primeval  woods.  And  the  woods 
have,  alas !  in  too  many  cases,  been  quite  obliterated 
by  the  insatiate  miner.  But  it  is  pleasant  to  observe 
how  nature  seeks  to  heal  the  wounds  inflicted  by  man ; 
how  she  recreates  soil,  renews  vegetation,  and  draws 
over  the  ugly  scars  of  twenty  years  a  fresh  mantle  of 
verdure  and  bloom.  Extensive  groves  of  young  pines 
and    cedars    are    flourishing   on    the    sites   of   the  old 


UP   THE    WESTERN  SLOPE.  75 

forests,  along  the  course  of  water  ditches,  and  even  in 
the  chasms  of  decaying  granite  and  piled  up  boulders 
and  cobbles  left  by  the  miner.  Small  basins  and 
valleys  once  covered  or  filled  with  mining  litter  are 
coating  over  with  grass  and  grain,  and  in  some  in- 
stances have  been  converted  into  garden  spots.  In- 
deed, many  of  the  old  mining  camps  are  now  more 
noted  and  valuable  for  their  orchards  and  vineyards 
than  for  their  gold  product.  The  rude  log-cabin  has 
given  way  to  the  vine-clad  cottage,  and  the  oleander 
blooms  before  doorways  where  once  the  only  shrub 
may  have  been  the.  pretty  but  noxious  poison-oak. 
Coloma,  where  gold  was  first  discovered  in  1848,  and 
where  five  thousand  men  dug  for  it  once,  is  now  a 
sleepy  little  village  of  horticulturists  and  vintners, 
embosomed  in  sloping  hill-side  vineyards,  its  "  sa- 
loons "  abandoned  to  the  rats,  and  its  jail  converted 
into  a  wine-cellar.  On  the  very  verge  of  deep  hy- 
draulic diggings  cling  thrifty  orchards.  The  peach, 
the  fig,  and  the  prickly  pear  are  rivals  in  luxuriant 
bearing,  clear  up  to  the  line  of  winter  snow,  and  even 


J  6  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

the  orange  grows,  where  it  has  been  tried,  two  thou- 
sand five  hundred  feet  above  the  sea.  Ditches  cut  at 
great  expense  to  bring  water  to  the  diggings  now 
serve  to  irrigate  gardens,  orchards,  and  vineyards. 
Even  the  rapidly  passing  railway  traveler  catches 
suggestive  glimpses  of  all  these  changes,  betokening 
the  new  era  of  permanent  settlement  and  culture 
which  is  coming  to  the  rude  places  of  old. 

Yet  it  is  a  relief  to  get  out  of  sight  of  the  crater- 
like chasms  left  by  the  miner,  with  their  pinky  chalk- 
cliffs  of  ancient  drift,  along  which  the  cars  fly  as 
over  a  parapet  or  wall.  It  is  pleasant  to  quit  the  hills 
denuded  of  timber  and  left  so  desolate  in  their  dusty 
brown ;  delightful  to  reach  loftier  ridges  and  plunge 
into  cool  shades  of  spicy  pine.  Here  nature  seems 
to  reassert  herself  as  in  the  time  of  her  unbroken 
solitude,  when  the  trees  grew,  and  flowers  bloomed, 
and  birds  caroled  ;  when  the  bright  cataracts  leaped 
in  song,  and  the  hazy  canon  walls  rose  in  softened 
grandeur,  indifferent  to  the  absence  of  civilized  man ; 
though  the  civilization  which  has  made  these  superb 


UP   THE    WESTERN  SLOPE.  J 7 

heights  so  easily  accessible  for  our  enjoyment  is  not 
to  be  scorned.  The  rocky  promontories,  jutting  into 
blue  abysses,  and  giving  sublime  pictures  of  mountain 
lines  sweeping  down  to  the  plain,  are  finer  for  the 
iron  rail  which  lies  along  their  dizzy  edges,  surpassing 
the  Appian  Way  of  the  Romans,  or  the  Alpine  Road 
of  Napoleon.  Here  we  have  the  sensation  of  balloon- 
ing without  its  dangers.  Flying  over  deep  gulches 
on  trestles  one  hundred  feet  high,  and  along  the  verge 
of  canons  two  thousand  feet  deep,  we  look  out  on  the 
air  and  view  the  landscape  as  from  a  perch  in  the  sky. 
Thus  is  the  picturesque  made  easy,  and  thus  mechan- 
ical genius  lends  itself  to  the  fine  wants  of  the  soul. 
Reaching  the  deep  snow-belt,  however,  the  vision  of 
mountain  scenery  is  cut  off  by  the  many  miles  of 
snow-sheds,  or,  at  best,  is  only  caught  in  snatches 
provokingly  brief,  as  the  train  dashes  by  an  occasional 
opening.  If  the  time  is  winter,  the  shed  is  enveloped 
in  snow  from  ten  to  twenty  feet  deep ;  the  light 
gleams  feebly  as  through  diaphanous  shell,  and  the 
smoke-blackened  interior  is  in   sharp  contrast    to  the 


7&  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

white  drifts  seen  through  chinks  and  slits.  A  ride 
through  these  winding  galleries  at  this  season  is  weird 
enough,  and  the  rare  glimpses  without  reveal  a  scene 
thoroughly  arctic.  The  woods  are  grand  with  their 
drooping  plumes,  —  white  on  the  upper,  green  on 
the  lower  surface,  —  and  the  massive  trunks  are  clad 
on  one  side  with  a  thick  garment  of  greenish-yel- 
low moss  extending  to  the  limbs,  which  often  trail 
long  pendants  of  gray  or  black  moss  from  bark  or 
foliage.  Higher  up,  the  treeless  peaks  and  slopes  of 
granite,  dazzlingly  white,  send  down  roaring  torrents. 
The  sea-murmur  of  the  forest  has  ceased ;  there  is  a 
hush  in  the  air  except  for  the  roar  of  waters.  The 
cushion  of  snow  prevents  reverberation,  and  muffles 
the  harp  of  the  summer-sounding  pine.  Here  and 
there  in  the  sheds  are  cavernous  side-openings,  which 
indicate  snow-buried  stations  or  towns,  where  stand 
waiting  groups  of  men,  who  receive  daily  supplies  — 
even  to  the  daily  newspaper  —  in  this  strange  region. 
The  railroad  is  the  raven  that  feeds  them.  Without 
it  these   winter  wildernesses  would    be   uninhabitable. 


UP  THE    WESTERN  SLOPE.  79 

When  the  train  has  passed,  they  walk  through  snow- 
tunnels  or  smaller  sheds  to  their  cabins,  which  give  no 
hint  of  their  presence  but  for  the  shaft  of  begrimed 
snow  where  the  chimney-smoke  curls  up.  And  in 
these  subnivean  abodes  dwell  the  station  and  section 
people,  and  the  lumbermen,  during  several  months, 
until  the  snow  melts  and  its  glaring  monotony  of 
white  is  suddenly  succeeded  by  grass  and  flowers, 
except  where  the  granite  crests  hold  the  snow  longer, 
and  seldom  bear  richer  vegetation  than  lichens  and 
a  few  straggling  dwarfs  of  pine  or  cedar. 

Nothing  can  be  more  charming  than  the  woods  of 
the  Sierra  summit  in  June,  July,  and  August,  espe- 
cially in  the  level  glades  margining  the  open  sum- 
mit valleys,  at  an  elevation  of  from  six  thousand  to 
seven  thousand  feet.  The  pines  and  firs,  prevailing 
over  spruces  and  cedars,  attain  a  height  ranging  from 
one  hundred  to  two  hundred  feet,  and  even  more. 
Their  trunks  are  perfectly  straight,  limbless  for  fifty 
to  a  hundred  feet,  painted  above  the  snow-mark  with 
yellow  mosses,  and  ranged  in   open  park-like   groups, 


80  CAL1F0RNIAN  PICTURES. 

affording  far  vistas.  The  soil  may  be  thin,  but  it  is 
soft  and  springy  to  the  tread,  covered  with  needles 
of  the  pine,  greened  with  tender  grasses  and  vines, 
and  thickly  sprinkled  with  blossoms.  Huge  boulders 
of  granite  relieve  the  vernal  coloring  with  their  pict- 
uresque mosses  of  gray,  starred  with  lichens.  These 
rocks  are  often  hid  in  vines  or  in  dwarf  oaks  and  man- 
zanitas,  which,  under  the  pressure  of  deep  snow,  as- 
sume a  vine-like  growth,  winding  about  a  boulder  with 
their  clinging  and  sinuous  small  branches.  Thickets 
of  wild  rose  and  other  flowering  shrubs  occur  at  in- 
tervals, giving  an  almost  artistic  variety  to  the  wood- 
land scene.  The  crimson  snow-plant  lifts  its  slender 
shaft  of  curious  beauty.  Large  patches  of  helianthus 
—  some  species  with  very  broad  leaves  —  spread  their 
sunflowers  to  the  air.  Sparkling  springs,  fresh  from 
snowy  fountains,  silver-streak  these  forest  meadows, 
where  birds  come  to  bathe  and  drink,  and  tracks  of 
the  returning  deer  are  printed.  Once  more  the  quail 
is  heard  piping  to  its  mates,  the  heavy  whirring  flight 
of    the   grouse    startles    the    meditative    rambler,    and 


UP  THE    WESTERN  SLOPE.  8 1 

the  pines  give  forth  again  their  surf-like  roar  to  the 
passing  breeze,  waving  their  plumed  tops  in  slow  and 
graceful  curves  across  a  sky  wonderfully  clear  and 
blue.  To  the  citizen  weary  of  sordid  toil  and  de- 
pressed by  long  exile  from  nature,  there  is  an  in- 
fluence in  these  elevated  groves  which  both  soothes 
and  excites.  Here  beauty  and  happiness  seem  to 
be  the  rule,  and  care  is  banished.  The  feast  of  color, 
the  keen,  pure  atmosphere,  the  deep,  bright  heavens, 
the  grand  peaks  bounding  the  view,  are  intoxicating. 
There  is  a  sense  of  freedom,  and  the  step  becomes 
elastic  and  quick  under  the  new  feeling  of  self-owner- 
ship. Love  for  all  created  things  fills  the  soul  as 
never  before.  One  listens  to  the  birds  as  to  friends, 
and  would  fain  cultivate  with  them  a  close  intimacy. 
The  water-fall  has  a  voice  full  of  meaning.  The 
wild  rose  tempts  the  mouth  to  kisses,  and  the  trees 
and  rocks  solicit  an  embrace.  We  are  in  harmony 
with  the  dear  mother  on  whom  we  had  turned  our 
backs  so  long,  yet  who  receives  us  with  a  welcome 
unalloyed  by  reproaches.      The  spirit  worships  in  an 


82  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

ecstacy  of  reverence.  This  is  the  Madonna  of  a  re- 
ligion without  dogma,  whose  creed  is  written  only  in 
the  hieroglyphics  of  beauty,  voiced  only  in  the  triple 
language  of  color,  form,  and  sound. 

Let  the  pilgrim  to  these  Sierra  shrines  avoid  the 
hucksters  who  carry  traffic  into  the  temple.  Let 
him  leave  the  beaten  line  of  travel,  where  the  ravag- 
ing axe  converts  the  umbrageous  solitude  into  noisy 
blanks.  Let  him  quit  the  scene  where  sawdust  chokes 
and  stains  the  icy  streams  in  their  beds  of  boulders. 
All  things  have  their  place,  and  these  are  well  in 
their  way,  but  are  only  an  offense  to  the  true  lover 
of  nature.  Plunge  into  the  unbroken  forests  —  into 
the  deep  canons ;  climb  the  high  peaks ;  be  alone 
a  while  and  free.  Look  into  nature,  as  well  as  at  nat- 
ure, so  that  the  enjoyment  shall  be  not  merely  sen- 
suous but  intellectual.  A  less  exclusive  and  jealous 
pilgrimage  than  this,  however,  will  make  a  man  bet- 
ter, physically  and  mentally.  He  will  realize  from  it 
the  truth  of  Tyndall's  testimony  to  the  value  of  high 
mountain    exercise    in    restoring    wasted    nervous    en- 


UP  THE    WESTERN  SLOPE.  83 

ergy  and  reviving  the  zest  and  capacity  for  brain 
work.  He  will  find  in  it  a  moral  tonic  as  well,  and 
come  back  to  the  world,  not  loving  men  better,  per- 
haps, but  more  patient  and  tolerant,  more  willing  to 
accept  work  with  them  as  being  itself  better  than 
the  thing  worked  for. 


SUNRISE   NEAR    HENNESS  PASS. 


The  moon  is  streaming  down  her  mellow  light 

Upon  the  snowy  summits  of  the  range 

That  walls  apart  the  gold  and  silver  lands. 

It  gleams  in  piney  glens  and  canons  wild, 

On  tumbling  cataracts  and  singing  rills, 

That  are  not  seen  but  heard  amid  the  gloom  ; 

Making  the  savage  scene,  remote  and  lone, 

Seem  holy  as  the  fane  where  thousands  kneel 

And  worship  'neath  the  dome  that  Art  hath  reared. 

Is  that  a  rival  moon  whose  tender  glow 

Now  silvers  in  the  east  the  speary  points 

Of  bulky  pines  that  crowd  the  mountain  pass  ? 

No,  it  is  Venus,  prophet-star  of  day  — 

The  lovers'  planet,  lambent,  large,  and  full  ; 

And  what  a  lunar  glory  trails  she  now 

Along  the  dewy  chambers  of  the  morn  ! 


SUNRISE   NEAR  HENJVESS  FASS.  85 

But  moon  and  planet  pale  and  dwindle  small 

Before  the  coming  of  a  greater  orb ; 

As  eyes  of  love,  that  brightly  beamed  in  life, 

Contract  and  darken  'neath  the  glare  that  streams 

Upon  them  from  the  realms  of  fadeless  light. 

The  gray  sky  whitens  with  a  boreal  glow 

Along  the  farthest  dark  blue  line  of  hills ; 

Then  flushes  into  amber  faint,  and  then 

To  saffron  hues  that  kindle  into  rose. 

Life  stirs  with  dawning  light.     The  birds  awake, 

And  welcome  it  with  twitterings  of  joy, 

Hoarse  murmurs  from  the  Yuba's  fretted  stream 

Come  faintly  up  from  depths  of  gorges  dark. 

The  cool  air,  rising  over  banks  of  snow, 
With  gentle  rustling  fans  the  cooing  birds  ; 
And  all  the  dusky  woods  are  stirred  and  thrilled 
With  swelling  of  the  Memnon  strain  that  flows 
From  touchings  of  no  priest  but  Nature's  self. 
Peak  after  peak  beacons  the  coming  day, 
And  snowy  summits  blush  like  maiden  cheeks 
At  nearing  footsteps  of  expected  swain. 
The  splintered  pinnacles  and  rocky  crags 
That  late  frowned  gloomily  as  castles  old 


CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

Perched  on  the  dizzy  heights  that  guard  the  Rhine, 

Now  softly  rise  in  gold  and  purple  air, 

And  move  the  soul  like  sad  and  stately  verse. 

The  east  is  all  aglow  with  brightening  flame, 

That  overflows  the  willow-fringed  vale, 

And  drives  the  shadows  from  ravine  and  glen. 

In  ghastly  pallor  wanes  the  rayless  moon, 

While  jeweled  Venus  has  evanished  quite. 

Oh,  what  a  burst  of  splendor  !     A  great  globe 
Of  burning  gold,  flashing  insufferably, 
And  warming  all  the  scene  with  ardent  ray, 
Heaves  into  view  above  the  mountain's  line, 
Darts  golden  arrows  through  the  dusky  aisles 
Of  thickly-columned  cedar,  pine,  and  fir, 
Transmutes  the  common  dust  to  shining  haze, 
Licks  up  the  rising  mists  with  tongue  of  flame, 
Gilds  the  "pale  streams  with  heavenly  alchemy," 
And  down  the  shaggy  slope,  for  scores  of  miles, 
Pours  forth  a  cataract  of  tremulous  light 
That  floods  the  valley  at  its  rolling  base, 
Making  the  arid  plain  a  zone  of  tropic  heat. 


ON  THE  SUMMIT. 


Arrived  at  the  summit  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  on 
the  line  of  the  railroad,  there  are  many  delightful 
pedestrian  and  horseback  excursions  to  be  made  in 
various  directions.  At  Summit  Valley  (which  is  as- 
sociated with  the  relief  of  the  tragically  fated  Donner 
emigrants,  and  is  only  three  miles  from  Donner  Pass) 
there  is  an  odious  saw-mill,  which  has  thinned  out 
the  forests  ;  an  ugly  group  of  whitewashed  houses  ;  a 
ruined  creek,  whose  waters  are  like  a  tan-vat ;  a  big 
sandy  dam  across  the  valley,  reared  in  a  vain  attempt 
to  make  an  ice  pond  ;  a  multitude  of  dead,  blanched 
trees;  a  great,  staring,  repellant  blank;  and  yet  this 
valley  is  not  unlovely.  Its  upper  end,  still  a  green 
meadow,  leads  to  the  base  of   peaks  ten  thousand  or 


88  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

twelve  thousand  feet  high,  whose  light  gray  summits 
of  granite,  or  volcanic  breccia,  weathered  into  castel- 
lated forms,  rise  in  sharp  contrast  to  the  green  woods 
margining  the  level  mead.  A  little  apart  from  the 
noisy  station  the  woods  are  beautiful,  as  we  have  de- 
scribed them,  and  the  boulder-strewn  earth  reminds 
one  of  a  pasture  dotted  with  sheep.  On  the  north- 
ern side  rises  the  square  butte  of  Mount  Stanford, 
two  thousand  four  hundred  and  fifty-three  feet  above 
the  valley,  and  nine  thousand  two  hundred  and  thirty- 
seven  feet  above  the  sea.  Its  volcanic  crest  is  carved 
into  a  curious  resemblance  to  a  ruined  castle,  and 
hence  it  was  named,  and  is  still  popularly  called, 
Castle  Peak;  but  as  the  same  title  is  affixed  to  sev- 
eral peaks  along  the  range,  the  state  geologist  has 
wisely  given  it  another  on  the  ■  official  maps.  This 
peak  can  be  ascended  to  the  base  of  the  summit 
crags  on  horseback;  the  remaining  climb  afoot,  up 
a  very  steep  slope  of  sliding  debris,  is  arduous  but 
short,  and  is  repaid  by  a  superb  view,  embracing  at 
least  a  hundred  miles  of   the  Sierra  crests,  their   nu- 


ON  THE   SUMMIT.  89 

merous  sharp  peaks  streaked  with  snow,  and  lying 
between  them  at  intervals  the  many  lakes  of  the  re- 
gion, including  the  flashing  sheet  of  Tahoe,  nearly 
thirty  miles  long,  the  dark  and  deep-set  Donner,  and 
the  little  meadow-fringed  lakes  of  Anderson  Valley ; 
while  on  either  side  stretch  the  slopes  of  the  range, 
rugged,  with  vast  exposures  of  granite,  overlaid  here 
and  there  by  the  lava  of  ancient  craters,  and  bristling 
lower  down  with  receding  coniferous  woods,  that  melt 
into  the  purple  distance  as  the  ridgy  flanks  of  the 
range  sink  at  last  into  the  hazy  plains.  On  one  side 
of  this  characteristic  peak  the  foot-climber  stops  to 
rest  on  a  depression  where  grass  and  flowers  grow 
luxuriantly,  and  swarms  of  humming-birds  hover  over 
the  floral  feast,  their  brilliant  iridescent  plumage 
flashing  in  the  sun,  and  the  movement  of  their  wings 
filling  the  air  with  a  bee-like  drone.  Above  all  this 
beauty  frown  the  bare  volcanic  cliffs  and  pinnacles 
that  top  the  mountain-Eden  and  the  desert  side  by 
side.  The  upper  Sierra  is  full  of  contrasts  and  sur- 
prises.    After  tedious  walking  over  rocky  barrens,  or 


90  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

toilsome  climbing  up  slippery  gorges,  in  the  very 
path  of  recent  torrents,  one  comes  suddenly  on  little 
bits  of  garden  and  wild  lawn,  where  butterfly  and 
bird  resort,  and  the  air  is  sweet  with  perfume.  At 
the  base  of  cliffs  which  looked  forbidden  at  a  dis- 
tance, cool  springs  will  be  found,  painting  the  ravines 
with  freshest  green;  red  lilies  swing  their  bells,  lupins 
and  larkspurs  call  down  the  tint  of  heaven ;  ferns 
shake  their  delicate  plumes,  bright  with  drops  of 
dew ;  and  the  rocks  offer  soft  cushions  of  moss,  the 
precipice  above,  where  water  trickles  down,  being 
clad  with  lichens,  and  a  hundred  crannied  growths. 
The  delighted  pedestrian  lingers  at  such  oases,  loath 
to  go  forward.  Goethe  says,  "  Great  heights  charm 
us;  the  steps  that  lead  to  them  do  not."  But  this  is 
hardly  true  in  a  great  part  of  the  Sierra  Nevada, 
where  the  scenery  by  the  way  lightens  the  labor  of 
climbing,  and  the  sensation  at  the  summit  is  only  the 
climax  of  protracted  enjoyment. 

The  tourist  who  stops  a  few  days  at  Summit  Val- 
ley    will    find    a    walk    along    the    railroad,    through 


ON  THE  SUMMIT. 


91 


the  snow-sheds,  peculiarly  entertaining.     These  sheds, 
covering   the    track  for   thirty-five    miles,  are  massive 


Section  of  Snow-shed. 


arched  galleries  of  large  timbers,  shady  and  cool, 
blackened  with  the  smoke  of  engines,  sinuous,  and 
full  of   strange    sounds.     Through    the   vents   in    the 


92  CALTFORNTAN  PICTURES. 

roof  and  the  interstices  between  the  roof-boards,  the 
sunlight  falls  in  countless  narrow  bars,  pallid  as  moon- 
light. Standing  in  a  curve  the  effect  is  precisely  that 
of  the  interior  of  some  old  Gothic  cloister  or  abbey 
hall,  with  the  light  breaking  through  narrow  side 
windows.  The  footstep  awakes  echoes,  and  the  tones 
of  the  voice  are  full  and  resounding.  A  coming  train 
announces  itself  miles  away  by  the  tinkling  crepita- 
tion communicated  along  the  rails,  which  gradually 
swells  into  a  metallic  ring,  followed  by  a  thunderous 
roar  that  shakes  the  ground ;  then  the  shriek  of  the 
engine-valve,  and  in  a  flash  the  engine  itself  bursts 
into  view,  the  bars  of  sunlight  playing  across  its 
dark  front  with  kaleidoscopic  effect.  There  is  ample 
space  on  either  side  of  the  track  for  pedestrians  to 
stand  as  the  train  rushes  past,  but  it  looks  as  if  it 
must  crush  everything  before  it,  and  burst  through 
the  very  shed.  The  approach  of  a  train  at  night  is 
heralded  by  a  sound  like  the  distant  roaring  of  surf, 
half  an  hour  before  the  train  itself  arrives  ;  and  when 
the    locomotive  dashes    into   view,  the  dazzling   glare 


ON  THE   SUMMIT.  93 

of  its  head-light  in  the  black  cavern,  shooting  like  a 
meteor  from  the  Plutonic  abyss,  is  wild  and  awful. 
The  warning  whistle,  prolonged  in  strange  diminu- 
endo notes,  that  sound  like  groans  and  sighs  from 
Inferno,  is  echoed  far  and  long  among  the  crags  and 
forests. 

Summit  Valley,  lying  three  miles  west  of  the  high- 
est point  on  the  railroad,  is  six  thousand  seven  hun- 
dred and  seventy-four  feet  above  the  sea.  The  air  is 
keen  and  invigorating;  there  are  few  summer  nights 
without  frost,  but  the  days  are  warm  enough  for 
health  and  comfort.  Nine  miles  southward,  and  six 
hundred  and  sixty-one  feet  lower,  are  the  little  known 
but  remarkable  "  Summit  Soda  Springs."  The  drive 
to  these  springs  is  one  of  the  most  picturesque  and 
enjoyable  in  the  Sierra.  Passing  by  fine  dark  cliffs 
of  volcanic  breccia  to  the  right,  and  over  low  hills 
covered  with  tall,  red  firs,  the  road  leads  to  Ander- 
son Valley,  a  green  meadow,  embosoming  three 
little  lakes,  which  are  perfectly  idyllic  in  their  quiet 
beauty.     These    lakes    are    the    remnants  of   a   larger 


94  CALIFORN1AN  PICTURES. 

single  body  which  evidently  once  filled  the  whole 
valley.  Their  outlet  is  through  a  narrow  rocky  gorge 
which  empties  into  a  tributary  of  the  north  fork  of 
the  American  River.  The  road  follows  the  steep 
side  of  this  gorge  for  a  short  distance,  then  reaches 
the  summit  of  a  ridge  overlooking  the  canon  of  the 
American,  two  thousand  feet  below.  Looking  down 
this  canon,  one  sees  rising  from  its  blue  depths  the 
grand  bulk  of  Eagle  Cliff,  —  a  rocky  promontory 
whose  top  is  probably  eight  thousand  feet  above  the 
sea,  and  whose  bald  slope  to  the  river  presents  a  pre- 
cipitous front  of  inaccessible  steepness.  The  largely 
exposed  mass  of  this  elevation  makes  a  magnificently 
long  outline  across  the  sky,  and  when  the  canon  is 
hazy  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  sun  declines  towards 
the  west,  the  sharp  sculpture  of  the  cliff  is  obscured 
behind  a  purple  veil  and  presents  a  front  of  ethereal 
softness,  like  a  vast  shadow  projected  against  the 
heavens,  or  a  curtain  let  down  from  the  infinite. 
Directly  across  the  canon,  looking  southward,  the 
ridge  separating  the  north  American  from  the  middle 


ON  THE   SUMMIT.  95 

fork  of  the  main  river  sweeps  up  in  a  still  longer 
and  grander  line,  which  swells  into  snow-peaks  from 
nine  thousand  to  ten  thousand  feet  high,  —  as  high 
above  the  valley  at  the  bottom  of  the  canon  as 
Mount  Washington  is  above  the  sea,  —  exposing  four 
thousand  feet  of  uplift  to  the  glance,  and  weathered 
into  a  rich  variety  of  pinnacled,  domed,  and  serrated 
forms.  The  descent  into  the  canon  is  a  long  zigzag 
through  a  lovely  forest,  in  which  the  red  fir,  with  its 
deeply  corrugated  bark,  attains  a  height  of  from  one 
hundred  and  fifty  to  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  and 
frequently  has  a  thickness  at  its  base  of  four  or  five 
feet.  The  yellow  pine  (P.  ponderosd),  even  more  mas- 
sive, lifts  its  rich  foliage  above  a  bright  and  leather- 
colored  trunk,  the  bark  on  which  is  almost  smooth, 
and  is  divided  into  long  plates.  But  the  monarch  of 
these  woods  (though  infrequent  here)  is  the  sugar 
pine  (P.  L amber Hand),  whose  smooth  trunk,  often 
six  feet  through,  rises  a  hundred  feet  or  more  with- 
out a  limb,  perfectly  straight,  and  is  crowned  with  a 
most  characteristic,  irregular,  and  picturesque    top,  its 


96  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

slender  cones,  a  foot  or  more  in  length,  hanging 
from  the  tips  of  the  boughs  like  ear-drops.  The  eye 
constantly  seeks  out  these  magnificent  trees,  and 
every  large  one  is  hailed  with  admiring  exclamations. 
Dwarf  oak  and  manzanita,  ceanothus  and  chemisal, 
are  the  prevailing  underbrush.  In  sunny  open  spaces, 
or  on  bits  of  timberless  meadow,  the  rose,  and  thim- 
ble-berry, and  a  purple-blooming  asclepia  abound. 
Occasional  large  patches  of  a  broad-leafed  helian- 
thus,  when  not  in  bloom,  curiously  resemble  ill-kept 
tobacco  fields.  About  grassy  springs  a  very  fragrant 
white  lily  sparingly  unveils  its  virgin  beauty.  A 
spotted  red  species  of  the  lily  is  more  common,  and 
small,  low-flowering  plants  are  numerous.  The  south- 
ern slope  of  the  ridge,  descending  to  the  soda  springs, 
has  a  deep  soil  and  is  very  thickly  timbered.  At  its 
base  the  small  streams  are  lined  with  thickets  of 
quaking  aspen,  cottonwood,  and  balm  of  Gilead,  alter- 
nating with  more  continuous  groves  of  alder  and 
willow,  where  the  prevailing  undergrowth  is  a  silk- 
weed,  four   or    five   feet   high,    whose    slender   stalks, 


ON  THE   SUMMIT.  97 

bearing  narrow,  sharply-cut  leaves,  are  thickly  crowned 
with  purple  blossoms.  Thickets  of  thorn  afford  cover 
for  numerous  quail.  Coniferous  trees  continue  along 
the  narrow  banks  of  the  river,  but  stand  more  apart. 
At  the  head  of  the  canon,  the  granite  breaks  down 
in  huge  benches,  or  shelves,  presenting  perpendicular 
faces  as  looked  at  from  below.  The  river  tumbles  a 
hundred  feet,  in  cascades  and  falls,  through  a  gorge 
of  granite  set  in  a  lovely  grove  of  cedar  and  pine, 
and  pools  of  green  water  sparkle  in  clean  basins  of 
granite  at  the  foot  of  every  fell.  The  rock  of  this 
gorge  is  richly  browned  and  polished,  except  on  the 
gray  faces  of  the  cliffs  overhanging  the  stream.  Far- 
ther up  the  canon,  where  the  main  crest  of  the  Sierra 
describes  the  arc  of  a  circle  along  the  eastern  sky, 
and  is  crowned  by  several  high  peaks,  the  granite  is 
overlaid  with  lava  and  breccia,  the  product  of  the 
volcanoes  which  anciently  dominated  and  overflowed 
this  region,  and  whose  relics  are  seen  in  the  sharp 
cones  of  trachyte  at  the  summit.  Near  the  junction 
of  granite  and  volcanic  rocks,  numerous  soda  springs 

7 


98  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

boil  up  through  seams  in  the  ledges,  often  in  the 
very  bed  of  the  stream.  The  water  of  these  springs 
is  highly  charged  with  carbonic  acid,  is  delightfully 
cool  and  pungent,  and  contains  enough  iron  to  make 
it  a  good  tonic,  while  it  has  other  saline  constituents 
of  much  sanitary  value.  Where  the  fountains  bubble 
up  they  have  formed  mounds  of  ferruginous  earth 
and  soda  crust,  and  their  water  stains  the  river  banks 
and  currents  at  intervals.  One  of  the  largest  and 
finest  springs  has  been  utilized,  forming  one  of  the 
most  picturesque  resorts  in  California.  About  two 
miles  below,  the  river  has  cut  a  narrow  channel  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  deep  and  one  eighth  of  a  mile 
lone  through  solid  eranite.  This  chasm  is  but  a  few 
rods  wide  at  top,  and  only  a  few  feet  wide  at  bottom, 
where  there  are  numerous  smooth  pot-holes,  forming 
deep  pools  of  wonderfully  transparent  water  of  an  ex- 
quisite aquamarine  tint.  There  is  enough  descent  to 
make  the  current  empty  from  one  pool  to  another  in 
little  cascades,  over  sharp  pitcher-lips  of  polished  rock. 
Lovers  of  angling  are  provoked  to  find  no  fish  in  these 


ON  THE   SUMMIT.  99 

charming  basins.  A  few  stunted  but  picturesque 
cedars  are  stuck  like  cockades  in  the  clefts  above, 
and  the  summits  of  the  chasm  walls  are  rounded  and 
smoothed  by  ancient  glacial  action.  To  this  place 
was  given  the  name  of  Munger's  Gorge,  by  a  gay 
picnic  party  last  summer,  in  honor  of  the  fine  artist 
who  sat  with  them  on  its  brink,  and  was  first  to 
paint  it.  A  few  miles  below  is  a  still  deeper  and 
grander  gorge,  at  the  foot  of  Eagle  Cliff,  where  the 
precipitous  granite  walls  rise  a  thousand  feet  or  more, 
and  the  stream  makes  a  sheer  fall  of  a  hundred  feet. 
Above  this  fall  fish  cannot  ascend,  and  so  it  hap- 
pens the  beautiful  upper  river  is  the  angler's  dis- 
appointment. There  are  many  fine  climbs  to  be 
made  in  the  vicinity  of  the  soda  springs,  including 
Mount  Anderson  and  Tinker's  Knob,  companion 
peaks,  separated  only  by  a  saddle-like  depression  a 
few  hundred  feet  deep  and  scarcely  a  mile  long,  at 
the  very  head  of  the  canon,  dividing  it  from  the  head 
of  Tuckee  River,  on  the  eastern  slope,  by  a  few  miles. 
These  peaks,  having  an  elevation  from  three  thousand 


IOO  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

to  three  thousand  five  hundred  feet  above  the  river, 
and  from  nine  thousand  to  nine  thousand  five  hun- 
dred above  the  sea,  can  be  climbed  with  comparative 
ease  in  a  few  hours.  Tinker's  Knob,  the  higher  of 
the  two  (named  after  an  old  mountaineer,  with  hu- 
morous reference  to  his  eccentric  nasal  feature),  is  a 
sharp  cone  of  trachyte,  rising  above  a  curving  ridge 
composed  partly  of  the  same  material  and  partly  of 
lava  and  breccia  overlying  granite.  Its  summit,  only 
a  few  yards  in  extent,  is  flat,  and  paved  with  thin 
slabs  of  trachyte,  and  cannot  be  scaled  without  the 
aid  of  the  hands  in  clambering  over  its  steep  slopes 
of  broken  rock.  Anderson  is  shaped  like  a  mound 
cut  in  half  and  is  composed  of  breccia  (volcanic  con- 
glomerate), rising  on  the  exposed  face  in  perpendicu- 
lar cliffs,  similar  to  those  which  occur  lower  down 
the  slopes.  The  ridge  crowned  by  these  twin  peaks 
is  approached  over  a  steep  mountain  of  granite  boul- 
ders, morainal  in  character,  which  leads  to  a  table- 
land clad  sparsely  with  yellow  pines  and  firs.  Clam- 
bering over  the  broken  rock    to   the  top  of   Tinker's 


ON  THE   SUMMIT.  IOI 

Knob  a  magnificent  panorama  is  unfolded.  Over 
three  thousand  feet  below  winds  the  American  River, 
—  a  ribbon  of  silver  in  a  concavity  of  sombre  green, 
seen  at  intervals  only  in  starry  flashes,  like  diamonds 
set  in  emerald.  The  eye  follows  the  course  of  the 
canon  fifty  or  sixty  miles  down  the  western  slope, 
marking  the  interlapping  and  receding  ridges  which 
melt  at  last  into  the  hazy  distance  of  the  Sacramento 
Valley.  With  the  afternoon  sun  lighting  up  this 
slope,  shooting  its  rays  through  the  ranks  of  pines, 
and  making  glorious  the  smoke  of  burning  forests  or 
the  river  vapors,  which  soften  without  concealing  the 
scene,  the  effect  is  wonderfully  rich.  Looking  north 
and  south,  the  eye  discerns  a  long  procession  of 
peaks,  including  Mount  Stanford,  the  Downieville 
Buttes,  and  Mount  Lassen.  To  the  east  lies  Lake 
Tahoe,  revealed  for  nearly  its  whole  length,  with  en- 
vironments of  picturesque  peaks.  There,  too,  lies  its 
grand  outlet,  the  basin  of  the  Truckee  River,  which 
can  be  followed  for  fifty  miles  to  the  Truckee  mead- 
ows in  Nevada,  past  several  railroad  towns.     The  line 


I02  CALIFOKNIAN  PICTURES. 

of  snow-sheds  from  the  ridge  above  Donner  Lake  to 
Truckee  is  distinctly  seen,  and  the  roar  of  passing 
trains  comes  faintly  up.  The  Washoe  Mountains 
bound  the  view  in  that  direction,  completing  a  grand 
picture.  The  view  is  amphitheatrical,  and  the  radius 
of  it  cannot  be  under  two  hundred  miles. 

A  still  finer  outlook  can  be  obtained  from  a  some- 
what higher  peak  to  the  southward,  which  heads 
the  next  canon  in  that  direction,  and  is  approached 
over  or  along  a  succession  of  volcanic  spurs,  edged 
with  sharp  cliffs  of  breccia,  of  true  drift  conglomer- 
ate, and  narrow  plateaus  of  the  same  material  rest- 
ing on  vertical  walls  of  basalt.  The  cliffs  in  one 
place  are  a  dark  Vandyke  brown,  faced  with  brill- 
iant red  and  yellow  lichens,  and  the  talus  at  their 
base  is  a  grassy  slope  of  vivid  green.  Opposite 
these,  across  a  gulf  perhaps  two  thousand  feet  deep, 
rises  the  bluff  face  of  the  peak  we  seek, — shaped 
like  the  South  Dome  of  Yosemite,  but  a  mass  of 
crumbling  breccia  of  a  pale  chocolate  or  drab  color, 
enameled  with   patches  of   snow.      Some  hard  climb- 


ON  THE    SUMMIT.  103 

ing  is  necessary  to  surmount  this,  but  the  view  re- 
pays the  labor.  Though  much  of  the  character 
described  above,  it  is  more  extensive,  giving  a  finer 
idea  of  the  summit  peaks  for  a  distance  of  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  miles  along  the  range.  Mount  Lassen 
and  the  Black  Butte,  its  neighbors,  —  volcanic  cones 
both,  —  are  beautifully  exposed,  and  towers  higher 
than  any  mountain  points  in  that  direction  until 
Mount  Shasta  is  reached,  only  seventy  miles  farther 
north.  Looming  into  view  one  after  the  other,  as 
the  eager  climber  ascends,  they  excite  the  mind  and 
stimulate  the  weary  limbs  to  renewed  effort ;  and  as 
the  view,  at  first  limited  by  near  ridges,  expands  to 
a  vast  circle,  melting  on  every  side  in  the  atmos- 
phere, the  soul  expands  with  it,  and  the  very  flesh 
that  holds  it  grows  buoyant. 

"What   now   to   me  the  jars   of   life, 
Its  petty   cares,   its    harder   throes  ? 
The   hills   are   free   from    toil    and   strife, 
And   clasp   me   in   their   deep   repose. 


104  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

"  They   soothe   the   pain    within   my   breast 
No   power   but  theirs   could    ever  reach  ; 
They   emblem    that   eternal   rest 

We   cannot   compass   in    our   speech."1 

A  couple  of  thousand  feet  below  are  several  little 
blue  lakelets,  fed  by  melting  snows,  in  small  basins 
of  verdure.  Flowers  bloom  in  gold  and  blue  and 
purple  beauty  at  their  margins,  and  at  the  very  edge 
of  the  frozen  snow.  A  fitful  breeze  sweeps  a  quick 
ripple  of  silvery  wrinkles  over  the  placid  pools,  and 
they  are  smooth  and  blue  again  in  an  instant. 
There  is  no  cloud  in  the  sky,  but  shadows  of  high- 
flying birds  pass  over  the  landscape  below,  remind- 
ing us  of  clouds,  and  intensifying  the  sensation  of 
vast  space  and  depth.  Recovered  from  the  ecstasy 
of  this  grand  scene,  we  begin  to  study  the  geology 
of  the  region,  which  is  beautifully  revealed.  First, 
an  upheaval  of  granite,  rupturing,  displacing,  and 
metamorphosing  the  beds  of  sedimentary  rock  depos- 
ited when  the  ocean  lay  over  the  sight  of  the  range. 

1  John  R.   Ridge. 


ON  THE  SUMMIT.  105 

Then,  over  the  granite,  and  crowning  all  the  highest 
ridges  and  peaks,  are  layers  of  volcanic  rock  —  tra- 
chyte, breccia,  red  lava,  pumice,  and  scoria  —  cut 
through  clear  to  the  underlying  granite  at  the  head 
of  canons,  first  by  the  glaciers  that  succeeded  the 
volcanic  period,  and  later  by  frost  and  freshet,  by 
slides  and  avalanches.  The  evidences  of  glacial  ac- 
tion below  the  long  line  of  ancient  craters,  can  be 
clearly  traced  in  the  excavation  of  the  lava  flows ; 
in  the  rounded  and  polished  masses  of  granite ;  in 
the  erratic  boulders  left  here  and  there,  perched  like 
monuments  on  solid  ledges;  in  the  morainal  deposits 
cut  through  by  modern  streams  or  still  forming 
lakes.  Thus  the  reign  of  ice  succeeded  the  reign 
of  fire,  and  both  these  tremendous  forces  were 
needed  to  fashion  the  rich  mountain  forms,  and  to 
prepare  the  way  for  all  the  lovely  forests  greening 
their  flanks. 

Perhaps  a  little  finer  exhibition  of  glacial  action 
is  that  to  be  seen  in  the  canon  of  the  South  Yuba, 
leading    out    of    Bear  Valley,    twenty-two    miles  west 


106  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

of  the  railroad  summit,  and  a  little  north  from  the 
Soda  Spring  region.  Bear  Valley  is  about  a  thou- 
sand feet  below  the  ridge  along  which  the  railroad 
passes.  It  was  anciently  filled  by  a  lake  caused  by 
the  terminal  moraine  of  a  glacier.  The  cutting 
through  finally  drained  the  lake,  and  left,  first  a  mo- 
rass, then  a  meadow.  Going  up  the  valley  two  or 
three  miles,  to  the  mouth  of  a  deep  gorge,  the  ob- 
serving traveler  will  notice  many  glacier-polished  hills 
of  granite  —  bare  mounds  of  rock  that  were  carved 
into  shape  by  a  moving  body  of  ice,  ages  ago. 
The  gorge  itself  has  been  cut  down  to  a  depth  of 
from  three  hundred  to  eight  hundred  feet  through 
granite ;  and  its  walls,  curved  and  sloped  at  their 
summits,  and  sharply  cut  and  polished  on  their 
faces,  frown  over  the  stream  that  drops  from  one 
green  bowl  of  rock  to  another  at  their  clean-swept 
bases.  Immense  pot-holes,  still  retaining  the  boul- 
ders that  excavated  them,  are  frequent  through  the 
bottom  of  this  wild  gorge.  Some  of  them  have  been 
worn  through  on  one  side  and   form    little    cascades. 


ON  THE   SUMMIT.  107 

For  the  purpose  of  conveying  the  pure  water  of  the 
Yuba  to  Nevada  City  a  narrow  flume  covered  with 
planks  has  been  built  through  this  gorge,  which 
would  else  be  inaccessible  to  the  tourist.  Over  this 
pathway  one  can  walk  into  the  rocky  chasm  for  two 
miles.  The  construction  of  the  flume  was  a  work 
of  difficulty  and  danger.  It  is  supported  partly  by 
walls  laid  up  on  the  outer  side  ;  partly  by  iron  bars 
and  wire  cables  fastened  in  the  solid  rock,  which 
hold  it  in  suspension  over  perpendicular  depths. 
The  face  of  the  rock  had  to  be  blasted  to  make 
way  for  it,  and  the  blasting  could  be  effected  in 
places  only  by  letting  men  down  from  the  top  of 
the  cliff  with  ropes,  and  they  drilled  and  charged 
the  powder-holes,  hung  in  mid-air.  One  poor  fel- 
low, who  put  off  a  blast  prematurely,  was  blown 
from  his  airy  perch  across  the  river  and  dashed  in 
pieces.  Walking  securely  along  this  flume,  one 
looks  down  a  sheer  precipice  into  the  yawning  river- 
holes  far  below,  enjoying  their  transparent  green  and 
the  snowy  play  of   their    cascades,  and  wondering  at 


108  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

the  force  which  cut  those  enormous  bowls  in  the 
solid  granite,  and  which  keeps  the  whole  bottom  of 
the  gorge  swept  clean  and  smooth.  Looking  up,  on 
one  hand,  the  neck  stiffens  and  the  eye  wearies  with 
the  effort  to  see  the  whole  of  the  perpendicular  cliff. 
The  lofty  coniferous  trees  above,  which  sometimes 
nod  over  the  beetling  edge,  are  dwarfed  by  the  dis- 
tance. The  face  of  the  cliff  is  moist  here  and  there 
with  dripping  springs,  which  cover  it  with  exquisite 
mosses  and  many  rare  flowering  plants,  ferns,  and 
vines,  the  delight  of  botanists.  The  less  erect  wall 
on  the  opposite  side,  scarcely  a  stone's-throw  across, 
is  brown  and  gray  with  motley  lichen  patches.  It 
is  a  place  to  linger  in  for  hours,  and  to  leave  with 
regret. 

Returning  to  the  summit,  let  us  leave  the  railroad 
at  the  point  where  it  begins  its  descent  of  the  east- 
ern slope,  and  climb  the  tree-covered  ridge  and  bald 
granite  cliffs  overlooking  it  to  the  left.  A  thousand 
feet  above  the  pass  will  give  an  elevation  about  eight 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  commanding  a  view   of 


ON  THE   SUMMIT.  109 

Donner  Lake  and  the  valley  of  the  Truckee,  over 
two  thousand  feet  below,  and  down  the  eastern  slope 
to  the  transverse  mountain  lines  of  Nevada,  sixty 
miles  off.  Right  and  left  the  view  is  obstructed  by 
crags  and  pinnacles  of  bare  granite,  which  loom  up 
cold  and  gray  against  the  intense  blue,  except  when 
the  morning  or  evening  light  warms  and  empurples 
them,  or  tinges  them  with  rose,  as  seen  afar  in  the 
last  glow  of  sunset.  Among  these  rocky  summits 
lies  Lake  Angela,  gemmed  in  the  granite  and  gir- 
dled with  fir  groves  and  narrow  fringes  of  grass  and 
flowers,  —  a  cup  of  stone,  decorated  on  its  sides  with 
Nature's  own  graceful  arabesque.  Donner  Lake  is 
sunk  in  a  narrow,  oblong  canon,  cut  through  the 
granite  by  one  of  the  ancient  glaciers  of  the  eastern 
slope,  a  tributary,  probably,  of  the  enormous  ice-river 
which  once  put  out  of  the  basin  of  Lake  Tahoe  and 
occupied  the  present  channel  of  the  Truckee.  The 
descent  to  Donner  from  the  granite  peaks  at  its 
western  end  is  abrupt  and  rugged,  and  the  view  from 
those  peaks  is  remarkable  for  its  stern  grandeur.     It 


I  IO 


CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 


was  near  this   point   that   Bierstadt  made  the  studies 
for  his  most  faithful  picture  of  California  scenery.     At 


Donner  Lake,  Mount   Sanford    in  the  distance. 

the  base  of  the  cliffs  the  lake,  an  irregular  oval  three 
miles  long,  and  half  a  mile  to  a  mile  wide,  steel-gray 


ON  THE   SUMMIT.  Ill 

or  dark  lead  in  color,  when  the  sun  is  not  flashing 
from  its  smooth  surface,  or  the  silvery  vapors  are  not 
rising,  framed  by  sloping  ranks  of  spear-headed  pines  ; 
beyond  the  lake,  a  dark  trough  ending  in  a  sky-line 
of  lofty  mountains,  softened  by  the  pearly  gray  of 
morning,  and  exposed  in  all  the  sharpness  of  their 
rocky  anatomy  by  the  glow  of  evening,  which  tints 
them  a  color  the  despair  of  art, —  this  completes  the 
picture  of  Donner. 

But  the  gem  of  all  scenes  in  this  part  of  the 
Sierra  is  Lake  Tahoe,  situated  about  fifteen  miles 
southerly  from  Donner,  between  the  double  crests 
of  the  range,  measuring  about  twenty-three  miles 
long  from  northeast  to  southwest,  by  about  fifteen 
miles  wide  at  its  widest,  having  an  altitude  of  six 
thousand  two  hundred  and  eighteen  feet  above  the 
sea,  and  being  surrounded  by  mountains  that  rise 
from  one  thousand  to  four  thousand  feet  higher, 
volcanic  for  the  most  part,  except  in  the  southwest, 
where  they  are  granitic.  The  favorite  road  follows 
for    fifteen    miles    the    banks    of   its   outlet,    Truckee 


1 1  2  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

River,  —  a  rapid  stream  of  remarkably  clear  water, 
having  a  width  of  from  sixty  to  a  hundred  feet, 
and  flowing  over  a  bed  of  boulders,  between  groves 
of  alder,  willow,  maple,  cottonwood,  and  aspen.  The 
heavily  timbered  ridges,  putting  down  in  nearly 
straight  lines  from  the  summit,  rise  on  either  side  of 
this  stream  to  a  height  of  from  one  thousand  to  two 
thousand  feet,  at  a  sharp  angle,  and  are  composed 
of  volcanic  rock,  originating  with  the  extinct  craters 
of  the  crest,  and  sometimes  exposed  in  high  and 
picturesque  cliffs  of  a  rich  color.  Extensive  logging 
operations  are  conducted  along  the  Truckee,  and  it 
is  one  of  the  sights  of  the  trip  to  witness  the  shoot- 
ing of  the  logs  along  timber-ways  for  one  thousand 
two  hundred  feet  down  the  side  of  the  ridge.  They 
make  the  descent  in  thunder  and  smoke,  and  each 
log,  as  it  strikes  the  water,  will  send  up  a  beautiful 
column  of  spray  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  resembling 
the  effect  of  a  submarine  explosion.  The  banks  of 
the  river  are  strewn  with  granite  boulders  and  cob- 
bles, which  could  only  have  been  brought   from    the 


ON  THE  SUMMIT.  113 

head  of  the  lake  by  a  glacier,  since  the  adjoining 
ridges  are  entirely  volcanic  clear  down  to  the  stream. 
Indeed,  glacial  marks  are  plain  enough  on  the  rocks 
about  the  lake,  the  polish  even  remaining  on  one 
exposure  of  volcanic  rock  on  the  eastern  shore  neai 
Tahoe  City.  Imposing  as  must  have  been  the  Ta- 
hoe  or  Truckee  glacier,  it  was  narrower  below  the 
present  lake-bed  than  one  of  three  glaciers  still  liv- 
ing on  the  flanks  of  Mount  Shasta, — the  Agassiz 
Glacier,  as  named  by  Clarence  King,  —  which  has 
a  width  of  about  three  miles;  whereas  the  Truckee 
is  hardly  so  wide  as  the  Whitney  Glacier,  —  about 
half  a  mile.  The  first  sight  of  the  lake  is  very 
striking:  as  one  breaks  from  the  sombre-hued  for- 
ests  of  pine  and  fir,  and  gazes  on  a  wide  expanse 
of  blue  and  gray  water,  sparkling  in  the  sun,  and 
relieved  by  a  distant  background  of  violet-colored 
mountains.  There  is  an  exciting  freshness  in  the 
air,  and  the  spirits  are  elate  with  freedom  and  joy. 
It  is  a  treat  to  watch  the  alternations  of  color  on  the 
water.     Prof.  John   Leconte,  who  recently  made  some 


114  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

interesting  observations  on  this  and  other  phenomena 
of  the  lake,  says  that,  wherever  the  depth  exceeds 
two  hundred  feet,  the  water  assumes  a  beautiful 
shade  of  "  Marie  Louise  blue."  Where  it  is  shallow, 
and  the  bottom  is  white,  it  assumes  an  exquisite 
emerald  green  color,  as  in  the  famous  Emerald 
Cove.  Near  the  southern  and  eastern  shores  the 
white  sandy  bottom  brings  out  the  green  color  very 
strikingly.  The  same  authority  informs  us  that  his 
soundings  indicate  that  there  is  a  deep  subaqueous 
channel  traversing  the  whole  lake  in  its  greatest  di- 
mensions, or  north  and  south.  At  several  points  in 
this  channel  the  depth  exceeds  one  thousand  five 
hundred  feet.  The  temperature  of  the  water  de- 
creases with  increasing  depth  to  about  seven  hun- 
dred or  eight  hundred  feet,  and  below  this  depth  it 
remains  sensibly  the  same  down  to  pne  thousand 
five  hundred  feet.  The  constant  prevalent  temper- 
ature below  seven  hundred  or  eight  hundred  feet  is 
about  390  Fahrenheit,  —  the  point  at  which  fresh 
water    always    attains    its    maximum    density.       The 


ON  THE   SUMMIT.  115 

temperature  of  the  water  above  the  depth  named 
was  found,  during  the  summer,  to  be  from  410  to 
670.  '  Owing  to  the  above  facts  of  depth  and  tem- 
perature, the  lake  never  freezes,  except  in  shallow 
and  detached  portions.  As  Professor  Leconte  says, 
before  the  conditions  preceding  freezing  can  occur, 
the  water,  for  a  depth  of  eight  hundred  feet,  must 
cool  down  to  390,  for,  until  it  does,  the  colder  sub- 
stratum will  not  float  to  the  surface.  The  winter 
is  over  before  this  equalization  can  be  effected,  and 
so  the  water  does  not  freeze.  Owing  also  to  the 
lower  water  being  at  a  constant  temperature  only 
70  above  the  freezing  point,  drowned  bodies  reach- 
ing it  are  not  inflated  by  the  gases  resulting  from 
decomposition  at  a  higher  temperature,  and,  there- 
fore, do  not  float.  The  transparency  of  the  water 
is  so  great  that  small  white  objects  sunk  in  it  can 
be  seen  to  a  depth  of  more  than  one  hundred  feet. 
Sailing  or  rowing  over  the  translucent  depths,  not 
too  far  from  shore,  one  sees  the  beautiful  trout  far 
below,  and  sometimes  their  shadows  on  the  light  bot- 


1 1 6  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

torn.  It  is  like  hovering  above  a  denser  atmos- 
phere. But  the  surface  of  the  lake  easily  ruffles  into 
dangerous  waves  under  a  sudden  wind,  and  a  '  num- 
ber of  incautious  persons  have  been  lost  in  these 
cold  depths  which  never  give  up  their  dead.  The 
beaches  of  white  sand,  or  clean,  bright  pebbles,  rich 
in  polished  agate,  jasper,  and  carnelian,  margined  with 
grassy  meads  where  the  strawberry  ripens  its  luscious 
fruit,  and  running  close  to  park-like  groves  of  pine, 
fir,  and  cedar,  afford  delightful  rambles.  The  shore- 
lines are  informal  and  picturesque,  opening  into  green 
coves  and  bays,  where  sometimes  a  cascade  comes 
foaming  down  from  the  snow-peaks,  or  pushing  out 
sharp  points  of  timber  and  long  strips  of  reedy 
marsh,  leading  to  valleys  where  smaller  lakes  are 
found  glassed  amid  a  close  frame-work  of  rocky 
heights.  One  of  the  prettiest  of  these  side  lake- 
lets rejoices  in  the  poetic  name  of  Fallen  Leaf 
Lake,  from  the  circumstance  that  its  placid  surface 
is  often  strewn  with  the  leaves  of  deciduous  trees 
blown  from    the  banks.      Another   is    called   Cascade 


ON  THE   SUMMIT.  W] 

Lake,  because  a  little  water-fall  tumbles  over  a  ledge 
into  its  bosom.  Both  of  these  small  sheets  have 
often  been  painted  by  the  artists  who  repair  to  Ta- 
hoe  every  summer ;  but  their  favorite  is  the  large 
lake,  with  its  superb  mountain  boundaries,  which  on 
the  northwest  are  lofty,  snow-clad,  and  beautifully 
sculptured.  The  afternoon  haze  over  mountain  and 
lake  is  a  delicate,  pearly  gray.  Later,  this  color 
shades  off  into  violet,  and,  as  the  sun  sinks,  the 
mountains  take  on  the  most  delicious  crimson  flush, 
deepening  into  purple,  while  the  lake  is  wonderful 
in  its  play  of  reflected  color,  and  at  a  certain  hour 
looks  like  an  opal  set  in  rubies.  The  moon  at  night 
converts  the  surface  into  a  shield  of  flashing  silver. 
By  day  or  night  the  musical  lapse  of  the  wavelets  on 
the  beach  charms  and  soothes ;  and  when  all  the 
solitude  of  its  original  loneliness  seems  to  come 
over  the  scene  again,  we  have  the  sensation  of  an 
awful  spiritual  presence,  "  felt  in  the  heart  and  felt 
along  the  blood." 


EL    RIO    DE    LAS    PLUMAS. 


River  of  feathers  —  calm  and  graceful  stream  ! 

They  name  thee  well.     The  yellow  willows  droop 
Toward  thy  tranquil  face  like  plumes,  and  seem 

At  times  to  kiss  thee,  as  fond  lovers  stoop 
To  kiss  the  eyes  that  mirror  back  their  own. 

And  in  a  line  of  beauty  gently  flows 
Thy  winding  water,  to  the  world  unknown,  — 

The  sordid,  plodding  world,  —  but  not  to  those 
For  whom  the  river  or  the  brook  hath  all 

The  wonder  of  old  ocean's  stormy  flood, 
Whose  minds  see  beauty  in  the  leaves  of  fall 

As  in  eve's  fleecy  cloudlets  dyed  in  blood. 

To  such,  dear  stream,  thou  hast  a  charm  ;  the  flash 
Of  silver  lightning  from  thy  glassy  face. 


EL  RIO   DE  LAS  PLUMAS.  I  19 

Inclosed  by  foliage  like  a  lake,  and  dash 

Of  thy  broad,  foaming  rapids,  have  a  place 
Alike  in  admiration's  seat,  and  fix 

Upon  the  often  grieved  and  grieving  mind 
Those  recollections  of  delight  that  mix 

And  brighten  others  of  a  darker  kind. 
For  all  the  beauty  of  a  lovely  scene 

Beams  not  upon  the  eye  to  live  no  more 
Than  while  we  gaze  :  ah  no!      Its  spell  serene 

Sinks  in  the  heart  for  aye,  and  when  we  pore 
In  after  years  o'er  mem'ry's  tinted  page, 

That  lovely  landscape  rises  to  the  view, 
Attired  in  all  the  charms  of  early  age, 

And  seems  our  primal  joyance  to  renew. 

Again  we  see  the  triple  peaks  that  rise 

Like  purple  isles  above  the  yellow  grain, 
As  lonely  'gainst  the  deep  and  cloudless  skies 

As  are  the  pyramids  on  Egypt's  plain. 
Here,  in  a  park-like  grove  of  mighty  oaks, 

Whose  trunks  are  crimson  with  the  poison  vine, 
The  acorn-hiding  bird,  with  rapid  strokes, 

Startles  the  echoes  where  the  deer  recline. 


120  CALIFORNJAN  PICTURES. 

Afar  we  hear  the  laugh  of  Indian  girls, 
Or  murmur  of  the  red  man's  alder  flute  : 

Their  camp  smoke  floats  away  in  pallid  curls  : 
The  breeze  sinks  low,  and  then  the  air  is  mute, 

Save  that  at  eve  we  hear  the  cricket's  keen 

And  quiv'ring  music,  or  the  hollow  note 
Of  water-bubbling  frog,  and  catch  between 

The  turtle's  plaint,  low  in  his  feathered  throat ; 
Or  listen  to  the  hooting  of  the  owl,  — 

The  ghostly  owl,  that  only  stirs  at  night, 
When  darkness  wraps  the  landscape  like  a  cow] 

And  superstition  shudders  with  affright. 
But  here  are  peace  and  love,  that  brood  alway 

In  blessed  calm  above  a  witching  scene  ; 
And  here  the  soul,  a  flower  that  shuns  the  day, 

Opes  to  the  night  and  feels  a  joy  serene. 


HEAD-WATERS  OF  THE  SACRAMENTO. 


The  upper  Sacramento  Valley  is  a  vestibule  that 
leads  to  the  high  altar  of  Mount  Shasta.  At  first,  a 
broad,  level  plain,  —  so  broad  that  the  Coast  Range 
and  Sierra  Nevada,  on  either  side,  are  but  dimly  seen, 
low  in  the  hazy  horizon,  —  it  narrows  going  north- 
ward, until  its  mountain  walls,  drawing  nearer  and 
nearer  together,  intermix  at  last,  leaving  only  a  chan- 
nel for  the  waters  of  the  Sacramento  River,  lying 
between  high  and  steep  ridges  parallel  with  its  course 
for  seventy  miles,  and  then  opening  into  a  series  of 
small  valleys,  at  a  considerable  elevation,  encircled 
by  loftier  mountains,  where  burst  forth  the  springs 
that  feed  the  river  and  its  branches.  Dividing  sev- 
eral of   these   small  valleys,  at    the  very  head  of    the 


122  CALIFORNIA N  PICTURES. 

Sacramento,  rises  the  noble  bulk  of  Shasta,  a  land- 
mark to  the  traveler  in  the  great  valley  below  for  a 
hundred  miles  or  more,  and  visible  from  high  points 
to  the  southward  for  quite  two  hundred  miles,  —  a 
snowy  cone  projected  against  the  sky,  without  a  rival 
peak.  To  the  pedestrian  or  horseman,  who  makes 
his  way  slowly  toward  this  landmark,  it  is  a  guide 
and  an  inspiration  for  days.  In  the  early  times,  when 
the  great  valley  was  one  wide  field  of  flowers  in  the 
spring,  or  a  rippling  sea  of  wild  oats  in  the  summer, 
the  distant  aspect  of  the  mountain,  through  the  won- 
derfully clear  atmosphere  of  this  climate,  and  in  con- 
trast with  so  much  vernal  color,  was  peculiarly  fine. 
Many  a  pioneer  gold-hunter  retains  still,  in  whatever 
different  and  remote  scene  he  may  now  be,  the  vivid 
impression  of  its  beauty.  And  even  yet  the  ap- 
proach to  Shasta  is  full  of  allurement,  at  the  begin- 
ning of  summer,  when  green  and  flowery  tints  prevail, 
and  before  the  smoke  of  forest  fires  has  spread  an 
obscuring  haze  through  the  sky.  At  this  season  the 
valley  itself   is  enjoyable  for  its  verdure  and   brilliant 


■  ,  ,  ,     ;  :; 


^Wj$ 


111 


mMMM ' 


HEAD-WATERS  OF  THE   SACRAMENTO.       1 23 

bloom ;  for  its  clean,  open  groves  of  large  oaks ;  for  its 
denser  timber-lines  along  the  dry  channels  of  winter 
streams ;  for  its  gradual  upheaval  into  the  mound-like 
swells  that  prelude  the  foot-hills;  for  the  cool,  sharp 
vision  of  Sierra  snow-crests  to  the  eastward,  and  the 
lower  and  softer  wall  of  purple  which  marks  the 
Coast  Range.  The  Sacramento  River  winds  slowly 
its  dark  greenish  current,  at  first  between  low  banks 
fringed  with  brier  and  grape  thickets,  overtopped 
with  sycamores,  alders,  willows,  and  cotton-woods ; 
then  between  bluffs  of  clay  or  gravel,  where  the 
undergrowth  is  missing.  Over  the  wide,  level  sur- 
face, in  some  directions,  there  is  not  a  tree  to  break 
the  monotony ;  but  along  the  horizon,  on  warm  days, 
are  cheating  visions  of  trees  and  water.  It  is  a  re- 
lief to  strike  the  oaken  parks  again,  and  to  see  the 
mountain  chains  drawing  closer.  Here  at  the  right 
stands  Mount  Lassen,  dominating  this  portion  of  the 
Sierra,  though  only  the  centre  of  a  colony  of  ancient 
volcanoes,  whose  crater-cones  have  an  elevation  rang- 
ing  from    nine    thousand    to    nearly  eleven   thousand 


I  24  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

feet.  From  the  summit  of  the  highest  peak  on  Las- 
sen, in  the  clear  season,  a  view  is  obtained  extending 
from  Mount  Hamilton,  in  the  Coast  Range  below 
San  Francisco,  to  Mount  Pit,  in  the  Siskiyou  region 
at  the  north,  a  distance  in  a  direct  line  of  nearly 
three  hundred  and  fifty  miles ;  while  the  view  east 
and  west  extends  from  Pyramid  Lake,  in  Nevada,  to 
the  coast  ranges  overlooking  the  Pacific. 

At  the  point  where  Mount  Lassen  is  most  plainly 
seen  from  the  valley,  the  foot-hills  of  the  interblend- 
ing  ranges  are  distant  only  a  few  miles,  and  to  this 
point  the  traveler  can  now  go  from  Sacramento  by 
rail,  in  the  cars  of  the  Oregon  division  of  the  Central 
Pacific  Railroad  —  distance  one  hundred  and  seventy 
miles.  The  next  seventy-five  miles  of  the  journey, 
to  the  foot  of  Mount  Shasta,  is  made  in  one  of  the 
stages  which  runs  through  from  Redding,  the  railway 
terminus,  to  Roseville,  the  southern  terminus  of  the 
railroad  in  Oregon.  Leaving  Sacramento  at  2.20  p. 
m.,  Redding  is  reached  at  midnight  of  the  same  day. 
In  half  an  hour  the  stage  ride  begins,  and  lasts  until 


HEAD-WATERS    OE  THE   SACRAMENTO.      1 25 

about  four  o'clock  the  next  afternoon,  when  Straw- 
berry Valley  is  reached,  about  two  hundred  and  forty- 
five  miles  from  Sacramento  —  time  twenty-five  hours. 
By  this  method  of  travel,  much  of  the  upper  Sacra- 
mento Valley,  and  of  the  foot-hill  region  north  of 
Redding,  is  lost  to  observation,  either  going  or  re- 
turning. The  night  ride  on  the  stage,  over  a  rough 
road,  especially  in  the  late  summer  when  the  dust  is 
thick,  is  very  uncomfortable  and  wearisome ;  yet  it 
has  a  certain  strange  interest.  The  large  head  and 
side  lights  to  the  stage,  alias  "  mud-wagon,"  cast 
weird  reflections  on  the  deep  cuts  in  the  rocky  hill- 
sides, and  on  the  ranks  of  gray-trunked  oaks  or  dusty 
thickets  of  underbrush.  At  the  stations,  placed  at 
intervals  of  twelve  miles,  sleepy  hostlers  come  out 
with  fresh  relays  of  horses,  and  their  half-unwilling 
talk  with  the  drivers  reveals  queer  glimpses  of  lonely 
wayside  life,  with  its  paucity  of  incident  and  topic. 
Here  and  there  distant  hill-sides  are  in  a  lurid  blaze, 
—  the  effect  of  some  careless  camper's  fire,  which  is 
spreading  destruction    among    tfce    noblest   coniferous 


126  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

woods.  Sometimes  the  stage  will  dart  rapidly  through 
a  bit  of  burning  forest,  the  ground  beneath  the  flam- 
ing tree-trunks  strewn  with  ashes  and  beds  of  red 
coals,  the  air  heated  and  filled  with  suffocating  smoke, 
which  has  a  resinous  odor.  Three  times  the  stage  is 
ferried  across  the  Pit  and  McCloud  rivers  —  the  main 
branches  of  the  upper  Sacramento,  flowing  to  it  on 
the  east,  from  the  northeasterly  slopes  of  Shasta,  as 
the  Sacramento  itself  flows  from  the  southwesterly 
flank  of  the  same  peak  —  cold,  snow-fed  streams,  all 
three,  which  convey  to  the  warm  valley  nearly  all  the 
chill  of  their  origin  ;  clear  and  rapid,  too,  the  resort 
of  myriads  of  salmon,  which  seek  them  from  the  sea 
in  the  breeding  season,  and  the  constant  home  of 
several  species  of  trout.  The  foot-hill  country  along 
the  Sacramento  contains  a  few  mining  camps,  as  gold 
is  still  scantily  extracted  from  the  river  bars,  the 
ravines,  and  slopes.  Granite  gives  way  to  slate  more 
or  less  veined  with  quartz,  and  the  drift  revealed  in 
the  river-bed  or  bank  is  largely  made  up  of  granite, 
slate,  and  quartz,  mixed  at  last  with  boulders  and 
cobbles  of  trachyte  and  lava. 


HEAD-WATERS    OF   THE   SACRAMENTO.     1 27 

As  day  dawns,  the  foot-hills,  with  their  several 
species  of  oak,  —  smaller  than  those  in  the  valley,  — 
of  ceanothus,  syringa,  manzanita,  and  poison-oak,  have 
given  place  to  long,  high,  straight  ridges,  clothed 
thick  with  pine,  and  fir,  and  spruce.  These  ridges, 
composed  of  metamorphic  and  volcanic  rocks,  form  a 
deep,  broad  canon,  unlike  the  canons  of  the  Sierra  to 
the  southward  in  this,  that  the  river  is  still  clear  and 
unobstructed  by  mining  wash,  that  its  banks  have 
some  level  space  on  either  side,  and  are  not  divested 
of  their  beautiful  vegetation,  including  groves  of  con- 
ifers, which  spread  down  from  the  ridges,  mixed  with 
dark-limbed,  slender,  and  graceful  oaks.  As  the  min- 
ing operations  along  the  upper  Sacramento  are  very 
small,  and  confined  to  the  primitive  methods  of  cra- 
dling and  sluicing,  no  hydraulic  diggings  having  been 
found,  the  stream  retains  its  primitive  character,  and 
for  the  greater  part  of  its  length  its  banks  are  virgin. 
The  contrast  it  presents  to  eyes  accustomed  to  the 
choked  and  muddy  streams  of  the  deep  gravel  region 
southward,  whose  original  banks  and  bars  have  been 


I  28  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

buried  fifty  to  a  hundred  feet  in  mining  debris,  and 
whose  higher  banks  have  been  stripped  of  timber,  is 
delightful.  The  road  follows  along  the  steep  side 
of  the  ridge  on  the  west  of  the  river,  sometimes  ris- 
ing several  hundred  feet  above  the  stream,  then 
plunging  down  to  its  very  channel,  leaving  and  re- 
turning to  it  in  picturesque  coquettishness.  The 
river  itself  is  an  almost  constant  rapid.  Having  a 
softer  material  than  the  granite-bedded  Sierra  streams 
to  cut  through,  it  has  worn  its  channel  low  down  on 
a  nearly  uniform  grade,  and  nowhere  on  its  course, 
from  the  foot  of  Shasta  to  the  plain,  has  it  any  of 
the  falls  and  cascades  which  characterize  the  Sierra 
streams.  It  has  a  beauty  all  its  own,  however.  In 
a  succession  of  riffles,  whose  foam  is  tinged  with  blue 
or  tea-green,  it  dances  and  sparkles  and  sings  over 
its  clean  bed  of  boulders,  over  exposed  ledges  of  bed- 
rock, over  bars  of  gray  gravel.  At  intervals,  masses 
of  basalt-like  rock  rise  in  columnar  forms  or  make  a 
terrace  of  many-sided  slabs,  at  the  edge  of  the  trans- 
parent  current.     For  fifty  miles    the  water  is  fringed 


HEAD-WATERS    OF  THE   SACRAMENTO.      129 

with  rich  masses  of  very  large,  round,  and  scalloped 
leaves,  slightly  drooping  from  a  centre  stalk,  big  and 
shapely  enough  for  parasols.  These  growths,  a  spe- 
cies of  saxifrage,  along  exposures  of  volcanic  rock 
that  form  ledges  in  the  water  or  rise  in  cliffs  above, 
characterize  this  stream  to  within  fifteen  miles  of  its 
source.  Ascending  its  course,  the  ridges  rise  higher 
and  higher,  until  those  immediately  hemming  it  in, 
scarcely  half  a  mile  apart,  reach  an  elevation  of  two 
thousand  feet  above  its  level,  their  thickly  wooded 
flanks  plunging  down  very  abruptly,  and  their  straight- 
drawn  summits  bristling  with  arrow-headed  conifers, 
through  which,  and  through  their  hazy  or  smoky 
shades,  the  sunlight  breaks  in  radiant  bars,  filling  the 
whole  canon  with  a  mellow  glory.  Always  the  rip- 
pling laugh  and  song  of  the  rapid  river,  foaming  be- 
tween its  green  rows  of  parasols,  with  their  twin  rows 
of  reflections  where  the  water  is  still ;  always  those 
straight,  high  ridges,  with  their  terebinthine  woods 
and  floods  of  broken  beams.  Watching  the  river,  we 
can  often  see  the  dark-backed  salmon  pushing  up 
9 


130  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

against  the  riffles,  resolute  to  obey  the  instinct  that 
reminds  them  in  ocean  depths  of  the  cold,  fresh 
stream  in  the  heart  of  far  mountains.  The  trout  feed 
on  their  spawn,  and  with  that  as  a  bait  can  be  caught 
with  hook  and  line  in  great  numbers.  Bailey,  of  the 
Lower  Soda  Springs,  told  the  writer  that  he  caught 
in  June,  July,  and  August,  1873,  three  thousand  one 
hundred  and  eighty-two  trout,  baiting  with  salmon 
eggs.  And  these  upper  Sacramento  trout  are  beau- 
tifully speckled,  with  bright  silver  bellies,  weighing 
commonly  from  half  a  pound  to  two  pounds,  and 
often  more,  and  having  a  rich  pink  flesh. 

From  time  immemorial  the  upper  Sacramento  and 
its  tributaries,  the  Pit  and  McCloud,  which  closely 
resemble  it,  have  been  the  favorite  fishing  resorts  of 
the  Indian  tribes  once  so  large  and  numerous  in 
this  region.  Here  they  gathered  in  multitudes  to 
spear  the  salmon  and  hold  protracted  festivals,  of 
which  fish-bakes,  primitive  gambling  games,  and  danc- 
ing, were  the  leading  diversions.  These  gatherings, 
though    in    sadly  diminished    numbers,  still    occur    in 


HEAD-WATERS    OF  THE   SACRAMENTO.     131 

the  height  of  the  summer  fishing  season,  and  at  in- 
tervals along  the  Sacramento  may  be  seen  the  conical 
bark  huts  laid  up  by  the  Indians,  occasionally  still 
tenanted  by  picturesque  but  filthy  groups  ;  while  far 
into  the  stream,  over  deep  pools,  project  the  poles, 
supported  on  crotches,  upon  which  the  red  man 
stands  and  hurls  his  spear — his  nude,  shapely  form 
suggesting  the  idea  of  a  bronze  image,  as,  erect  and 
still,  with  eye  intent  and  arm  uplifted,  he  poises  his 
weapon  for  a  throw.  It  is  not  strange  the  poor  sav- 
ages resented  the  intrusion  of  the  whites  upon  these 
picturesque  and  productive  rivers  —  an  intrusion  ac- 
companied by  much  brutality  and  violence,  compared 
with  which  the  retaliatory  acts  of  the  Indians  lose 
half  their  atrocity.  It  may  possibly  have  been  an 
impulse  of  romantic  sympathy,  as  well  as  mere  reck- 
lessness, which  led  Joaquin  Miller,  in  his  uncurbed, 
wayward  youth,  to  consort  a  while  with  the  Shastas. 
Following  in  his  footsteps  through  this  region,  one 
discovers  the  source  of  much  of  his  best  poetry.  On 
the  Sacramento,  the  Pit,  and  the  McCloud,  he  made 


132  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

the  studies  for  those  wild,  fresh  landscapes  which  live 
in  his  poems.  Among  these  lofty  ridges  and  loftier 
peaks,  in  the  very  shadow  of  Shasta,  he  found  all  his 
best  imagery,  and  conceived  his  ideal  brown  beauties. 
Here  was  inspired  and  fed  that  deep  fondness  for 
wilderness  life  which  is  the  prevailing  characteristic 
of  his  muse.  Whatever  the  irregularities  of  his  ca- 
reer, it  made  him  the  first  original  poet  of  the  west- 
ern wilds.  Old  settlers  through  the  upper  Sacra- 
mento country  have  many  stories  to  tell  of  him,  and 
some  are  not  more  flattering  than  he  would  like 
them  ;  but  those  who  knew  him  best  agree  in  testi- 
fying that  he  was  a  dreamy,  imaginative  young  fel- 
low, who  loved  to  muse  idly  by  river  side  and  on  the 
mountain  top,  and  who,  amid  all  the  savagery  and 
looseness  which  he  shared,  had  a  soul  in  constant 
sympathy  with  the  beautiful  in  nature. 

But  to  return  to  our  journey.  Following  the  up- 
per Sacramento,  the  view  of  Shasta  which  can  be 
had  from  the  big  valley  is  quite  lost.  Intervening 
mountains  near  the  eye  shut  it  off.     One  looks  con- 


HEAD-WATERS    OF  THE   SACRAMENTO.     133 

stantly  forward  in  hope  that  these  will  open  and  re- 
veal the  supreme  height.  Rising  from  every  plunge 
to  the  river  to  some  point  commanding  a  larger 
view,  we  look  and  look  in  vain,  until  within  fifteen 
miles  of  the  end  of  our  wearisome  staging.  Then 
we  see,  first,  —  from  a  slight  elevation  of  the  road 
overlooking  an  ox-bow  bend  of  the  river,  which  in- 
closes a  level  bar  overgrown  with  conifers,  —  an  ab- 
rupt and  jagged  ridge  of  bare  granite,  thrust  up 
through  the  slate  and  overlying  lava  of  the  sur- 
rounding country  to  an  elevation  of  two  thousand 
five  hundred  feet  above  the  valley.  This  ridge  is  a 
spur  of  the  Trinity  Mountains,  putting  in  from  the 
western  side,  and  terminating  in  a  peak  called  Castle 
Rock,  whose  extremely  narrow  and  sharply  serrated 
crest,  of  an  ashen-gray  color,  presents  the  appear- 
ance of  spires,  pinnacles,  and  domes,  whose  sides 
are  nearly  perpendicular.  The  lower  slopes  of  this 
beautiful  ridge  are  covered  with  heavy  forests  of  fir. 
It  reminds  one  of  the  Yosemite  cliffs,  and  is  prob- 
ably the    most    beautiful    uplift  of   granite  outside    of 


134  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

that  wonderful  valley.  When  the  atmosphere  is  clear 
and  the  sun  is  in  the  eastern  heaven,  the  bare  rock 
is  exposed  in  all  its  hard  anatomy  and  native  cold- 
ness of  tint.  But  when  the  sun  declines  toward  the 
west,  the  gray  granite  crags,  become  violet,  deepening 
with  evening  into  purple,  while  a  soft  lithographic 
shading  subdues  their  ruggedness  and  hides  the  de- 
tail of  their  sculpture.  As  the  sun  goes  down  be- 
hind them,  the  brilliant  purple  and  crimson  haze 
which  enwraps  the  peak  and  fills  forest  and  valley 
with  glory,  makes  the  scene  indescribably  fine.  A 
daring  engineer  of  the  Oregon  Railway  climbed  the 
tallest  of  the  splintered  rocks  comprising  this  peak, 
at  some  personal  risk.  Hunters  have  pursued  the 
deer  to  the  base  of  the  highest  crag,  and  on  one 
occasion  a  hard-pressed  buck  sprung  over  a  precipice 
and  was  dashed  to  death  below.  The  Indian  women 
used  to  climb  nearly  to  the  top  to  gather  the  man- 
zanita  berries  which  grow  on  the  sloping  debris,  until 
one  was  caught  in  a  slide  and  killed  by  the  rocks 
striking   her   head   from   above,    with  which    accident 


HEAD-WATERS    OF  THE   SACRAMENTO.      1 35 

they  are  said  to  connect  a  superstitious  dread.  Like 
the  Aryans  in  their  native  seats,  and  their  cultured 
Greek  descendants,  these  simple  aborigines  people 
high  mountains  with  supernatural  beings,  who  are 
thought  to  be  jealous  of  the  sanctity  of  their  re- 
treats. On  the  farther  side  of  Castle  Rock  is  a  lit- 
tle lake,  above  whose  deep  and  still  waters  rise  the 
granite  cliffs  with  fine  effect. 

Continuing  up  the  Sacramento,  whose  channel  has 
now  reached  an  elevation  of  about  two  thousand 
three  hundred  feet,  we  reach  a  group  of  chalybeate 
springs,  containing  chloride  of  soda  in  the  largest 
proportion,  and  heavily  charged  with  carbonic  acid. 
The  finest  of  these  springs,  eight  miles  from  Straw- 
berry Valley,  known  as  Fry's  Soda  Springs,  had 
formed  a  large  mound  of  soda,  silica,  and  iron  be- 
fore it  was  welled  and  covered  for  the  use  of  vis- 
itors resorting  to  it  regularly.  Close  by  flows  the 
swift,  clear  current  of  the  Sacramento.  A  swarded 
peach-orchard,  with  its  bright  grass,  the  light  foliage 
of    its   trees    and    their    burdens    of    blossom  or   fruit, 


I  36  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

contrasts  prettily  with  the  sombre  color  and  monot- 
onous forms  of  the  coniferous  woods  adjoining.  Im- 
mediately behind  the  orchard  rises  a  very  straight 
and  steep  mountain  ridge,  quite  two  thousand  feet 
above  the  valley,  —  an  immense  wall  of  forest,  so 
precipitous  that  the  growth  of  tall  timber  on  its 
flank  is  a  wonder.  This  ridge  is  a  grand  object  in 
the  afternoon,  when  the  declining  sun  shoots  his 
rays  in  long  lines  through  its  woods,  turning  smoke 
or  haze  into  a  veil  of  softened  glory.  It  is  while 
descending  an  incline  toward  the  Soda  Springs  that 
the  first  glimpse  of  Shasta  is  caught,  looming  far 
above  such  a  line  of  timbered  ridges  as  that  de- 
scribed, a  cone  bare  of  vegetation,  of  a  pinky  ash 
color  where  the  snow  has  melted,  ethereally  soft  in 
the  hazy  or  smoky  perspective  of  summer,  but  ear- 
lier in  the  season  sharply  relieved  against  a  clear 
sky,  with  all  its  sculpture  revealed,  and  its  crown 
entirely  white  with  snow.  The  sight  of  this  great 
peak,  so  long  sought,  at  so  much  labor,  begets  a 
sudden    oblivion    to    dust    and    fatigue.      The    spirits 


HEAD-WATERS    OF  THE   SACRAMENTO.      137 

are  elated  with  a  new  sensation,  and  it  is  with  a 
sigh  of  regret  that  we  see  the  stage  plunge  into  a 
dense  wood,  which  shuts  off  the  wonderful  vision  as 
suddenly  as  it  appeared.  For  eight  miles  beyond 
the  Soda  Springs  the  road  makes  up  a  tedious  as- 
cent —  part  of  the  old  lava  flow  of  Shasta,  rough 
and  dusty ;  yet  it  should  not  be  tedious  to  the  lover 
of  nature  to  ride  through  such  magnificent  groves 
of  pine  and  fir  as  clothe  it,  wherein  the  sugar  pine 
reappears  after  a  long  absence,  its  massive  trunk  fre- 
quently six  feet  through,  and  its  picturesque  spread 
of  boughs,  with  their  long  cones  at  the  ends,  rising 
to  a  height  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  In  this 
last  eight  miles  an  ascent  of  about  one  thousand 
two  hundred  feet  is  made,  and  we  reach  at  last  Straw- 
berry Valley  and  the  welcome  house  of  Sisson,  weary 
enough,  but  not  too  weary  to  stare  delightedly  at 
Shasta,  now  in  full   and  plain  view  before   us. 

Strawberry  Valley,  or  Flat,  as  it  is  called  by  some, 
is  the  first  opening  into  a  series  of  small,  elevated 
valleys  which  stretch  about  the  base  of  the  peak,  ex- 


138  CALIF0RN1AN  PICTURES. 

tending  on  its  western  side  through  Siskiyou  County, 
and  including  Shasta,  Cottonwood,  and  Scott  valleys 
to  the  north.  Strawberry  embraces  an  area  of  only 
a  few  miles,  broken  by  encroaching  belts  of  conifers 
which  divide  it  into  several  parts,  and  bounded  on 
the  west  by  the  lofty  Scott  Mountain,  —  a  range 
whose  crest  rises  at  least  five  thousand  feet  above 
the  valley,  and  is  spotted  with  snow  through  the 
whole  year.  The  northern  limit  of  the  valley  is 
Black  Butte,  the  highest  of  a  large  number  of  infe- 
rior volcanic  cones  dotting  the  plateau  northwest  of 
Shasta.  From  the  beautiful  regularity  of  its  outline, 
this  sugar-loaf  mass  of  trachytic  rock  was  named 
Cone  Mountain  by  the  Geological  Survey ;  but  the 
local  and  popular  name  is  that  given  above,  and 
was  suggested  by  the  dark  color  of  the  peak,  which 
is  exaggerated  by  contrast  with  the  bright  verdure  of 
Strawberry  Valley,  and  with  the  pallid  tints  of  the 
grand  mountain  adjoining.  Black  Butte  has  an  ele- 
vation of  more  than  three  thousand  feet  above  the 
plain  at  its  base,  which  makes    it  over   six    thousand 


HEAD-WATERS    OF  THE   SACRAMENTO.     1 39 

five  hundred  feet  above  the  sea.  Away  from  the  be- 
littling bulk  of  Shasta,  it  would  be  a  very  imposing 
peak,  and  even  where  it  is,  by  reason  of  its  sharp 
and  sudden  uplift,  and  its  isolated  position,  it  is  a 
prominent  and  picturesque  object.  Strawberry  Val- 
ley derives  its  name  from  the  abundant  growth  of 
wild  strawberries  over  its  surface.  This  delicious 
fruit  can  be  picked,  though  in  small  quantities  then, 
as  late  as  September.  A  large  circular  area,  formerly 
a  marsh,  fronting  Sisson's  house,  and  extending  to 
the  timbered  base  of  Shasta,  has  been  drained  by  the 
settlers  —  chiefly  by  Sisson  himself  —  and  cultivated 
to  timothy.  By  means  of  irrigating  ditches,  this 
meadow  is  kept  beautifully  green  through  the  whole 
summer  and  autumn,  when  other  valleys  are  brown 
and  parched.  The  small  creeks  and  brooks  which 
flow  together  here  from  Shasta  and  Scott  mountains, 
forming  the  main  Sacramento,  meander  through  the 
timbered  or  open  spaces  of  the  valley,  until  they 
reach  a  common  outlet  into  the  canon  at  Soda 
Springs.     Looking  from  the  porch  of  Sisson's  house, 


140  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

with  its  pleasant  frontage  of  grass-plat  and  flower- 
beds, across  the  timothy  meadow,  one  sees  the  noble 
bulk  of  Shasta,  only  twelve  miles  off  in  a  direct  line, 
rising  grandly  above  the  belts  of  pine  and  fir  that 
encircle  its  base.  As  the  valley  is  only  three  thou- 
sand five  hundred  and  sixty-seven  feet  above  the  sea, 
and  the  highest  peak  of  Shasta  is  fourteen  thousand 
four  hundred  and  forty-three  feet,  it  follows  that  the 
eye  takes  in  at  one  glance  an  uplift  of  ten  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  seventy-eight  feet.  Seen  from  this 
place,  it  is  a  double-pointed  peak,  with  a  considerable 
space  between  the  two  summits,  the  long,  sweeping 
line  of  its  sides  having  an  an<de  above  the  timber  of 
twenty-seven  to  thirty-six  degrees,  and  thence  sloping 
down  in  more  gradual  curves,  which  finally  melt  into 
the  valley. 

Isolated  by  the  valleys  around  its  base  from  the 
ridges  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  and  the  Coast  Range, 
which  in  this  region  are  conterminous,  if  not  quite 
intermixed,  and  showing  so  much  of  its  real  elevation, 
Mount  Shasta  has  the  finest  exposure  of  all  the  lofty 


HEAD-WATERS    OF  THE    SACRAMENTO.      141 

summits  in  California.  Indeed,  there  are  few  mount- 
ains anywhere  in  the  world  which  stand  so  apart, 
and  are  seen  to  such  great  advantage.  Mount  Whit- 
ney, in  southern  California,  —  its  superior  in  height 
by  five  hundred  or  six  hundred  feet,  and  its  only 
proved  superior  in  the  United  States,  outside  of 
Alaska,  —  is  but  one  of  a  number  of  companion 
peaks,  of  little  inferior  height,  rising  a  few  thousand 
feet  above  the  general  elevation  of  a  long  crest-line, 
accessible  by  a  quite  gradual  approach  on  horseback. 
The  peaks  about  the  railroad  summit,  having  an  ele- 
vation of  from  nine  thousand  to  ten  thousand  feet,  are 
reached  by  an  ascent,  on  the  railroad  or  wagon-road 
grades  (which  go  within  three  thousand  or  four  thou- 
sand feet  of  their  tops),  not  less  than  one  hundred 
miles  long.  But  arrived  at  the  base  of  Shasta,  you 
are  only  three  thousand  five  hundred  and  sixty-seven 
feet  above  the  sea,  and  make  the  remaining  elevation 
of  nearly  eleven  thousand  feet  to  the  top,  on  horse- 
back and  afoot,  in  the  short  distance  of  fourteen  or 
fifteen    miles.     Standing   out    so    boldly,   Shasta   is    a 


142  CALTFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

conspicuous  landmark  over  an  area  several  hundred 
miles  in  extent,  and  the  view  of  it  from  any  of  the 
valleys  at  its  foot  is  alone  ample  reward  for  the  long 
journey  necessary  to  obtain  it.  The  study  of  it  from 
Strawberry  Valley  is  a  constant  source  of  pleasure, 
for  many  days  in  succession,  from  the  early  morning, 
when  it  is  cold  and  austere,  until  the  evening,  when 
it  is  warm  and  ruddy  with  a  delicious  Alpine  glow, 
lasting  forty  minutes  after  the  valley  is  in  cool  shadow. 
In  the  clearest  atmosphere,  and  close  as  it  is,  the  twin 
cones  of  its  summit  look  soft  and  smooth,  as  if  clad 
with  soil,  where  they  are  not  covered  or  streaked  with 
snow.  Innocent  and  inviting  as  are  those  slopes,  ex- 
cept for  the  steep  angle  of  their  inclination,  we  know 
they  are  rough  piles  of  broken  rocks,  of  toppling 
slabs,  and  sharp  volcanic  clinkers.  But  how  lovely 
they  look  !  How  delicious  in  their  prevalent  tint  of 
pinkish  drab,  streaked  with  the  red  of  lava  edges 
and  the  white  of  frozen  snow,  and  relieved  so  high 
up  against  the  blue  sky ;  while  low  down  is  the 
abruptly  terminating  line  of  dark  green  firs  and  pines, 


HEAD-WATERS    OE  THE   SACRAMENTO.      1 43 

sloping  to  the  bright  grassy  meadow,  at  the  foot  of 
of  all.  In  some  lights,  and  especially  when  the  at- 
mosphere is  hazy,  the  peak  above  the  timber-line  is  a 
delicate  mauve  color  ;  and  it  is  then  as  airy  and  won- 
derful as  the  dome  of  Aladdin's  genii-built  palace, 
insubstantial    almost    as  the  fabric  of  a  vision. 

This  description  applies  only  to  the  summer  aspect 
of  Shasta,  for  from  November  or  December  until 
June  or  July,  the  perfectly  clear  atmosphere  shows 
a  distinct  and  massive  cone  of  snow,  glittering  in 
the  sun  or  veiled  only  in  clouds.  The  amount  and 
duration  of  the  snow  depend  upon  the  character  of 
the  winter.  If  that  is  mild,  the  snow  will  not  fall 
so  deep  nor  last  so  long  on  the  lower  slopes  as  in 
ordinary  seasons.  But  there  is  always  more  snow 
on  the  higher  portions  of  the  mountain  than  appears 
from  the  foot,  especially  from  the  valley  on  the 
southwestern  side,  where  the  influence  of  the  sun 
is  greatest.  Depressions  invisible  from  below  will 
be  found,  on  reaching  them,  to  be  wide-stretching 
fields    of    frozen    snow    and    ice ;    and    the    northern 


144  CALIFVRNFAN  PICTURES. 

slopes,  equally  with  the  loftiest  points  on  top,  cannot 
he  reached  from  Strawberry  Valley  at  the  latest  date 
in  summer,  after  the  mildest  winter,  without  crossing 
such  fields. 

The  winter  climate  of  the  valley  is  mild  and  equa- 
ble. The  snow-fall  is  neither  deep  nor  lasting,  and 
the  thermometer  seldom  drops  below  the  freezing 
point.  There  is  not  much  increase  in  the  volume 
of  the  streams,  and  the  temperature  of  their  water  is 
hardly  changed  from  that  of  summer,  since  at  all 
seasons  it  flows  directly  from  icy  sources.  While 
the  winter  is  so  bland  below,  on  that  lofty  peak 
above  it  is  arctic  in  severity,  and  terrific  storms  can 
be  seen  raging  there  when  the  valley  may  be  com- 
paratively exempt.  Thunder  and  lightning  are  rare 
phenomena,  usually,  in  California ;  but  the  great  vol- 
canic mass  of  Shasta  acts  like  a  magnet,  and  the 
electric  storms  about  it  are  sometimes  awful.  The 
subtile  fluid  fuses  and  drills  the  rocky  peaks  at  the 
summit,  leaving  large  holes  in  the  outcrop  which  are 
glazed  with  a   green  vitreous  mineral,  not  unlike  ob- 


HE  AD- WATERS    OF  THE   SACRAMENTO.     145 

sidian  ;  convex  blisters  of  the  same  substance  adher- 
ing to  the  surface  of  the  rock,  and  shivering  to 
atoms  when  one  tries  to  remove  them.  The  destruc- 
tion of  trees  by  some  of  these  electrical  bursts  is 
very  great.  Yellow  or  sugar  pines,  four  or  five  feet 
through  and  two  hundred  feet  high,  will  be  literally 
torn  to  pieces  and  scattered  over  a  wide  area.  One 
yellow  pine  of  nearly  this  size,  as  the  writer  can 
testify,  growing  in  a  meadow  near  Sisson's,  was  torn 
as  if  by  an  explosion  of  giant  powder,  much  of  it 
having  been  thrown  high  up,  black  streaks  being  left 
along  the  lines  of  cleavage  in  the  trunk,  and  the 
innumerable  fragments  of  trunk  and  branches  scat- 
tered over  an  area  of  about  seven  acres,  disposed  on 
the  ground  in  rays,  like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel. 
Trees  shivered  by  lightning,  and  tall  splintered  trunks, 
are  frequently  seen  in  the  forests  of  the  valley  and 
on  the  lower  flanks  of  the  mountain.  Even  in  the 
summer,  severe  wind-storms,  accompanied  by  thunder 
and  lightning,  sometimes  occur,  and  parties  making 
the  ascent  in  clear  weather  have  been  overtaken  near 


146  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

the    summit    by   sudden    squalls,    which    drove    them 
back  and  caused  them  much  suffering. 

The  best  time  to  make  the  ascent  of  Shasta  is  in 
July.  In  this  month  the  atmosphere  is  still  perfectly 
clear,  and  the  snow  is  sufficiently  melted  to  afford 
good  camping  ground  at  the  point  where  the  foot- 
climb  begins.  Later  in  the  summer,  the  view  from 
the  top  is  apt  to  be  obscured  by  haze  or  smoke  ; 
indeed,  as  late  as  September  or  October,  before 
there  have  been  any  rains,  the  smoke  from  forest- 
fires  (which  were  raging  last  year,  at  intervals  from 
Redding  to  Yreka,  a  distance  of  one  hundred  and 
ten  miles)  will  be  apt  to  hide  the  lower  country 
completely,  inflicting  a  severe  disappointment  on  the 
tourist.  A  few  persons  go  up  every  summer  of  late 
years,  including  an  occasional  woman.  Most  of  the 
parties  making  the  ascent  have  the  guidance  of  J. 
H.  Sisson,  whose  knowledge  of  the  country,  and  of 
its  wild  inhabitants,  which  he  imparts  in  a  pleasant 
manner,  contributes  much  to  the  interest  of  the  trip. 
He    has    lived    about    Shasta   for   sixteen  years,  is    a 


HEAD-WATERS   OF  THE   SACRAMENTO.      147 

hunter  of  skill  and  experience,  and  what  is  more 
rare,  an  earnest  lover  of  the  beautiful  in  nature. 
Under  the  average  height  of  men,  and  weighing 
only  one  hundred  and  thirty  pounds,  he  is  lithe  and 
strong,  has  great  powers  of  endurance,  and  much 
courage.  Educated  in  New  York  State  to  go  through 
Hamilton  College,  a  wild  instinct  took  him  west  be- 
fore he  could  enter  that  institution,  and  he  found  the 
career  he  loved  best  at  the  foot  of  Shasta,  where  he 
has  made  a  pleasant  home  for  his  family,  and  is 
planning  sagacious  schemes  of  improvement,  in  an- 
ticipation of  the  day  when  the  railroad  shall  bring 
hundreds  of  tourists  every  summer  to  the  spot  that 
he  believes  to  be  the  loveliest  in  America.  And, 
indeed,  when  the  railroad  shall  have  made  the  Shasta 
region  easily  accessible,  it  will  be  the  finest  resort, 
next  to  Yosemite,  in  the  Pacific  States,  for  mere 
scenical  enjoyment,  and  for  hunting  and  fishing  far 
superior  to  the  Yosemite,  if  not  to  any  other  por- 
tion of  California.  Deer  are  very  plentiful  in  the 
mountains,  and  even  in  the  valley  thickets  and  woods. 


148  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

Before  the  failure  of  his  sight,  Sisson  killed  from 
sixty  to  eighty  a  season,  with  his  single  rifle.  The 
brown  and  grizzly  bear,  quail,  and  grouse  are  also 
plentiful.  All  the  rivers  are  stocked  with  splendid 
trout;  the  McCloud  River  —  easily  reached  from  this 
point  by  wagon-road  —  containing  a  rare  species, 
called  the  Dolly  Varden,  from  its  large,  red  spots, 
known  to  the  Indians  as  the  Wye-dul-dicket,  and 
found  in  no  other  stream  in  California,  and  nowhere 
out  of  the  State,  except  possibly  in  Oregon.  This 
is  believed  to  be  the  same  fish  described  in  some  of 
the  railroad  reports  as  Salmo  spectabulis.  Besides 
the  true  brook  or  river  trout,  the  Sacramento  and 
McCloud  contain  the  large  salmon  trout,  and  in  the 
season  —  at  its  height  in  July  —  are  filled  with 
salmon.  Castle  Lake  is  one  of  the  best  fly-fishing 
places  in  the  State.  As  this  whole  northern  region 
is  wild  and  little  explored,  there  being  few  settlers 
apart  from  the  stage-stations  along  the  one  road 
running  between  Redding  and  Yreka,  game  has  not 
been  thinned    out    or   scared    away,  and    there    is    an 


HEAD-WATERS    OF  THE   SACRAMENTO.      1 49 

opportunity  for  some  original  exploration.  The  few 
Indians  remaining  are  mostly  domesticated,  and  none 
are  troublesome.  It  is  more  nearly  a  virgin  country 
than  any  in  California,  except  the  extreme  south- 
eastern Sierra,  which  is  accessible  only  by  a  tedious 
journey  of  many  days,  off  the  line  of  railway  com- 
munication. 


THE  BIRTH    OF   BEAUTY. 


An  old  volcano,  sealed  in  ice  and  snow, 

Looks  from  its  airy  height  supreme 
On  lesser  peaks  that  dwindle  small  below  ; 

On  valleys  hazy  in  the  beam 
Of  summer  suns  ;  on  distant  lakes  that  flash 

Their  starry  rays  in  greenwood  dense ; 
On  canons  where  blue  rapids  leap  and  dash, 

And  mosses  cling  to  cliffs  immense. 

Here  on  this  height  sublime  combustion  dire 

Once  blazed  and  thundered,  pouring  down 
Resistless  cataracts  of  rocky  fire, 

That  from  the  cloven  mountain's  crown, 
Around  its  flanks  in  every  gaping  rift, 

O'er  meads  that  girdled  green  its  base, 
Spread  out  a  deep,  entombing  drift, 

A  tongue  of  ruin  to  efface. 


THE   BIRTH  OF  BEAUTY.  151 

In  throes  of  terror  Nature  brings  about 

What  gives  to  man  the  most  delight  ;. 
No  scene  of  peaceful  beauty  comes  without 

Such  birth,  as  clay  succeeds  to  night. 
A  mountain  gem  of  pearly  ray  serene, 

Our  old  volcano  shows  afar; 
Fills  all  the  panting  soul  with  pleasure  keen, 

And  draws  it  heavenward  like  a  star. 


ASCENT    OF   MOUNT   SHASTA. 


Mounting  horses  accustomed  to  the  trail,  and  tak- 
ing along  an  extra  animal,  packed  with  blankets  and 
provisions,  our  little  party  —  consisting  of  the  writer 
and  his  wife,  Sisson  the  guide,  and  one  of  his  em- 
ployes —  leave  Sisson's  house  in  Strawberry  Valley 
at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  bound  for  the  top 
of  Mount  Shasta.  It  is  a  warm  September  day,  and 
the  lower  atmosphere  is  hazy  and  pungently  odorous 
with  the  smoke  of  burning  forests.  We  follow  the 
stage-road  a  short  distance  northward,  the  Black  Butte 
facing  us,  and  then  turn  into  the  woods  to  the  right, 
making  directly  for  the  peak.  For  two  or  three 
miles  the  trail,  which  we  have  to  pursue  in  single 
file  through  tall    thickets,  leads    across   level    ground, 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  153 

shaded  by  a  noble  forest  of  pine,  fir,  cedar,  and 
spruce,  differing  little  from  the  same  growths  at 
about  the  same  elevation  in  all  parts  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada,  except  that  the  trees  are  more  openly  dis- 
posed, in  park-like  groves,  and  have  little  of  the 
bright  yellow  moss  on  their  trunks  which  is  char- 
acteristic of  the  Sierra  forests  within  the  line  of  deep 
winter  snow.  The  sugar  pine  remains  the  grandest 
tree,  but  the  firs  and  yellow  pines  are  also  very 
straight,  tall,  and  handsome.  The  underbrush  con- 
sists of  the  wild  rose  (growing  here  four  to  eight 
feet  high),  the  ceanothus,  the  chestnut-like  chincapin, 
a  bright-leaved,  fragrant  laurel  (locally  known  as  the 
spice-bush),  and  more  rarely  the  manzanita.  There 
are  also  large  patches  of  huckleberries.  These  thick- 
ets are  often  so  dense  that  it  would  be  hard  work 
to  follow  the  slight  trail  through  them  on  foot ;  and, 
even  on  horseback,  one  must  watch  against  entan- 
gling his  stirrups.  Hundreds  of  species  of  herbaceous 
plants  occur,  and  nearly  all  the  shrubs  and  plants 
are    bloomers.      When    the    rose  thickets  are  in  bios- 


154  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

som,  the  air  is  delicious  with  their  fragrance,  and  the 
honey-bee  —  which  has  become  wild  in  these  woods, 
as  elsewhere  in  the  Sierra  —  finds  great  stores  of 
food.  Late  in  the  summer  the  balm  of  Gilead,  which 
grows  along  the  streams,  distills  from  its  leaves  a 
sugary  secretion,  called  honey-dew,  on  which  the 
bees  also  feed.  One  swarm  of  bees  in  the  valley, 
which  was  hived  about  the  first  of  June,  made  from 
that  time  until  September  fifteenth,  —  say  in  three 
months  and  a  half,  —  no  less  than  one  hundred 
pounds  of  fine  honey.  It  is  pleasant  to  note  the 
absence  of  the  poison-oak,  which  nowhere  in  Cali- 
fornia flourishes  within  the  snow-belt,  savins:  ou^  a^ 
along  the  Sierra  at  an  elevation  of  between  three 
thousand  and  four  thousand  feet.  A  little  to  the 
left  of  the  trail,  as  we  cross  the  valley  toward  the 
peak,  at  the  foot  of  a  ridge  about  one  thousand  five 
hundred  feet  high,  which  is  one  of  the  lower  spurs 
of  Shasta,  leaps  suddenly  out  of  the  earth  a  foam- 
ing torrent,  clear  and  icy  cold,  whose  two  streams 
at  once   unite   and    form    a   good-sized    creek.      This 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  155 

is  the  source  of  the  main  Sacramento.  To  see  the 
two  mouths  of  its  exit,  it  is  necessary  to  push  aside 
a  tan  cried  undergrowth,  and  to  bend  low.  Between 
these  vents  is  a  large  chalybeate  spring,  which  seems 
to  have  a  different  origin,  and  stains  the  earth  be- 
tween the  parted,  snowy  waters  a  rusty  red.  There 
is  a  remarkable  richness  in  the  flora  of  this  locality, 
embracing,  among  the  bushes  and  small  trees,  spe- 
cies of  the  willow,  alder,  cornus  (resembling  the 
eastern  dog- wood),  birch,  hazel,  elder,  black  oak,  yew, 
maple  {Acer  circinatum,  probably),  wild  rose,  chinca- 
pin,  choke-cherry,  black  raspberry,  gooseberry  ;  and, 
among  the  smaller  growths,  the  snow-ball,  strawberry, 
pennyroyal,  besides  several  vines  and  small  herba- 
ceous plants,  ferns,  mosses,  and  water  plants.  The 
springs  that  feed  all  this  vegetation  are  undoubtedly 
the  outpouring  of  a  subterranean  stream,  originating 
in  the  melting  snow  and  ice  of  Shasta,  and  drained 
through  fissures  and  caverns  of  volcanic  rock.  One 
of  the  characteristics  of  this  mountain  is  the  disap- 
pearance of  most  of  the  torrents  that  have  birth  near 


156  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

its  summit,  through  the  broken  rock  and  porous 
debris  of  its  slopes  above  the  timber  line  ;  and  as  it 
is  well  known  that  there  are  cavernous  passages  in 
the  lava  covering  all  the  lower  flanks  and  base  of  the 
mountain,  nothing  is  more  probable  than  that  the 
lost  streams  of  the  peak  reappear  in  the  enormous 
springs  of  the  valley.  Wild  animals  of  all  kinds, 
including  the  bear  and  deer,  at  different  seasons  come 
to  these  springs  to  drink,  and  are  especially  fond  of 
the  salty  water  of  the  chalybeate  spring.  Riding 
through  the  forest  on  the  lower  flank  of  the  mount- 
ain, which  begins  to  rise  from  near  this  point,  we 
met  several  deer,  both  going  and  returning,  and 
higher  up  twice  crossed  fresh  bear-tracks,  and  saw 
the  recent  wallow  of  his  plantigrade  lordship.  There 
is  a  peculiar  charm  in  following  the  trail  of  the  va- 
rious wild  creatures  of  the  Sierra  woods,  or  catching 
glimpses  of  them  in  their  privacy.  Nothing  is  more 
fresh  and  graceful  than  the  bounding  movement  of 
the  deer,  especially.  At  this  season  the  does  and 
fawns  are  seen  alone,  the  antlered  bucks    having   re- 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  157 

tired  to  more  elevated  places.  The  social  twitter  or 
anxious  call  of  quails,  hid  in  the  thicket  or  trooping 
across  a  rocky  open,  is  almost  the  only  sound  that 
mixes  with  the  soughing  of  the  trees,  save  the  occa- 
sional heavy  whirr  of  startled  grouse,  as  they  make 
a  short  flight  for  a  place  of  concealment. 

As  we  rise  above  the  valley,  at  first  by  a  gentle 
ascent,  the  character  of  the  forest  changes.  The 
pines  are  less  frequent,  the  firs  are  more  so,  and  the 
undergrowth  is  less  thick  and  varied.  The  ten  or 
twelve  species  of  conifers  are  reduced  at  last  to  three 
or  four,  —  yellow  pine,  Douglas  spruce,  and  a  large 
fir.  The  surface  becomes  rough  with  broken  masses 
of  basalt  and  other  lava  rocks,  part  of  the  outflow  of 
the  slumbering  volcanoes  above.  An  unusually  rug- 
ged field  of  this  material,  where  vegetation  is  nearly 
exhausted,  and  where  the  horses  bruise  their  pasterns 
at  every  step,  is  called  by  Sisson  "  The  Devil's  Gar- 
den." At  an  elevation  of  about  seven  thousand  feet 
the  pines  give  out  entirely,  and  we  go  through  a  belt 
of   silver-leaf  firs  (Picea    nobilis),  a  very  symmetrical, 


158  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

beautiful  tree,  with  a  juicy,  greenish-tinted  bark,  foli- 
age of  a  faint  tea-green  color  at  the  tips,  almost  sil- 
very in  certain  lights  ;  the  trunk  small  in  diameter, 
but  straight  and  taper  as  a  mast,  and  reaching  a 
height  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  These  hand- 
some firs  scent  the  air,  while  they  shut  out  the  rays 
of  the  sun  and  give  the  sky  a  darker  color  as  seen 
through  their  dense  capitals.  The  beauty  of  the  trees 
on  the  lower  flanks  of  Shasta  has  become  known  in 
Europe,  where  their  seeds  are  in  demand.  Sisson 
has  orders  for  forty  to  sixty  pounds  of  coniferous 
seeds  yearly,  from  Germany  alone.  As  the  small 
cones  of  the  silver-fir  grow  at  the  very  top  of  the 
tree,  he  has  to  climb  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  to 
get  the  choicest.  From  the  lower  boughs  of  many 
of  these  trees  hang  long  streamers  of  black  moss, 
curiously  like  coarse  human  hair,  and  calling  up  fan- 
cies of  Absalom  caught  by  his  tresses.  On  the  up- 
per edge  of  this  belt  of  silver-firs  we  come  upon  the 
path  of  the  avalanche.  Vast  snow-slides  have  mowed 
wide    and    long    swaths  through  the  timber,  strewing 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  159 

the  earth  with  broken  trunks  and  branches,  which 
are  partly  buried  in  ash-like  debris.  The  boundary 
of  these  slides  is  often  marked  by  a  bright,  little 
grove  of  young  firs,  more  delicate  in  color  than  the 
adjoining  forest.  In  this  region  of  avalanches,  also, 
the  Pinus  flexilis  —  last  tree  to  maintain  life  in  the 
upper  Sierra  —  begins  to  appear  as  a  shrub,  becomes 
a  small  tree  as  the  firs  give  out,  and  expires  as  a 
shrub  again  at  the  last  limit  of  vegetation,  save  moss 
or  lichen.  The  forest  growths  cease  quite  abruptly 
on  Shasta  at  a  height  of  about  eight  thousand  feet, 
though  the  Pinus  flexilis  maintains  a  scattered  and 
precarious  life  for  a  thousand  feet  higher.  This  pine, 
with  its  light-gray  bark  wrapping  the  twisted  and 
gnarled  trunk  as  tightly  as  a  skin,  with  its  contorted 
and  depressed  limbs  bearing  brush-like  bunches  of 
bright  green  needles,  is  a  very  characteristic  produc- 
tion of  great  elevations  in  California.  It  roots  itself 
in  the  very  rock,  and  has  the  aspect  of  strenuous 
struggle  with  unfriendly  elements.  Its  flattened  top 
is  often  so  compacted  by  the  deep  snows  that  a  man 


160  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

can  stand  upon  it,  and  when  the  bushes  grow  thickly- 
together,  he  can  almost  walk  from  one  to  another. 
Where  patches  of  it  have  died  at  last  in  sheer  de- 
spair, it  still  stands  in  obstinate  strength,  white  and 
weird,  a  stubborn  ghost  of  a  dwarf  tree. 

On  a  bold  bluff  overlooking  a  deep  gorge  on 
either  side,  and  composed  of  red  lava,  broken  and 
weathered,  but  still  lying  in  the  place  of  its  flow,  we 
reach  at  last  a  camping  place,  above  the  line  of  veg- 
etation, as  of  perpetual  snow,  and  between  nine  thou- 
sand and  ten  thousand  feet  above  the  sea.  It  is 
nearly  four  o'clock,  and  we  have  been  almost  seven 
hours  making  twelve  miles  of  distance,  and  something 
over  six  thousand  feet  of  elevation.  Our  horses  are 
tired  and  lame,  and  we  are  glad  enough  to  give  them 
rest  In  one  of  the  gorges,  a  few  hundred  feet  be- 
low our  camp,  there  is  a  feeble  growth  of  bunch 
grass,  at  the  edge  of  a  field  of  frozen  snow,  which 
they  are  led  to  pasture  upon,  after  short  rations  of 
barley  and  a  drink  of  snow-water.  It  was  curious 
to  see  one  or  two  of    the    animals    tasting  the  snow, 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  l6l 

as  they  were  driven  across  it  to  the  drin king-pool 
formed  by  its  melting  during  that  day.  Gathering 
branches  of  the  dead  Pinus  flexilis,  we  made  a  fire 
against  a  mass  of  lava,  spread  our  blankets  within 
circular  walls  of  lava  rocks,  piled  up  by  previous 
climbers  as  a  shelter  against  the  cold  winds,  and 
prepared  for  supper.  Within  a  cranny  of  one  of 
these  open  bed-chambers  we  found  vessels  of  tin  and 
iron,  for  boiling  and  frying,  stored  there  by  the  prov- 
ident Sisson,  who  soon  got  ready  a  grateful  meal. 
After  tethering  the  horses  near  by,  we  wrere  ready 
for  night,  intending  to  eat  breakfast,  and  start  on  our 
foot-climb  up  the  peak  by  day-break. 

The  scene  about  us  was  wild  and  desolate  in  the 
extreme.  Our  camping  ground,  as  before  stated,  was 
a  bluff  bench  of  red  lava  and  clinker,  above  the  gen- 
eral surface  of  which  were  heaped  at  intervals  huge 
detached  masses  of  the  same  material,  that  had  fallen 
down  from  above  or  become  detached  in  place.  The 
outer  edge  of  this  bench  commanded  a  view  of  the 
whole   southwestern  slope    of    the  mountain  down  to 


1 62  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

Strawberry  and  Shasta  valleys,  over  six  thousand  feet 
below ;  across  the  valleys  to  Scott  Mountain,  over- 
looking the  Black  Butte,  which,  from  this  height,  was 
diminished  to  a  small  mound  ;  and  thence  southerly 
to  the  canon  of  the  main  Sacramento,  bounded  by 
long  and  hazy  ridges,  and  filled  with  smoke  from  for- 
est fires,  which  obscured  an  otherwise  magnificent 
view.  The  flank  of  Shasta  itself  was  marked  by 
trough-like  grooves,  evidently  cut  by  the  melting  and 
sliding  snow ;  the  timber  growing  to  the  edges  of 
these  grooves  and  then  giving  suddenly  out,  except 
where  it  came  in  as  an  unbroken,  solid  belt  lower 
down.  A  large  meadow-like  plain,  four  thousand  feet 
below,  we  knew  to  be  a  thicket  of  tangled  and  thorny 
bushes,  threaded  only  by  deer.  As  the  sun  sank 
toward  the  crest  of  Scott  Mountain,  through  dense 
strata  of  smoke,  it  became  a  blood-red  globe,  quite 
shorn  of  its  beams,  and  more  or  less  elongated,  and 
could  be  looked  at  steadily.  It  was  very  strange  to 
see  this  red  ball  dropping  through  one  band  of  smoke 
after  another,  for  the  strata  were  of    unequal   density 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  163 

and  width,  and  the  sun  seemed  to  be  sinking  behind 
bars  that  made  it  visible  only  occasionally  and  partly. 
Looking  backward  to  Shasta,  its  highest  peak  was  in 
clear  sky,  and  rosy  bright,  —  a  massive  cone  of  lava- 
blocks  and  snow.  To  the  right  and  left  were  deep 
gorges  putting  down  from  the  peak,  their  basins  filled 
with  snow  and  ice,  their  slopes  partly  covered  with 
long,  narrow  bands  of  snow  which  led  up  to  the  top 
at  a  very  steep  angle.  Numerous  torrents  pouring 
down  the  upper  slopes  gave  forth  a  subdued  roar, 
varied  by  the  dull  rumble  of  the  rocky  masses  they 
detached,  and  which  seemed,  by  the  sound,  to  be 
constantly  moving,  although  we  could  not  see  them. 
The  red  lava  bed  on  which  we  stood  extended  for  a 
mile  or  more,  at  a  slight  inclination,  to  the  very  base 
of  the  peaks,  which  it  surrounded  like  a  garment 
that  had  been  pushed  down,  leaving  the  two  cones 
of  the  summit  standing  clear  above,  of  another  color, 
their  outlines  drawn  sharply  against  the  sky,  —  pre- 
eminent, lonely  heights,  their  tops  as  far  above  our 
exalted  station  as  Mount  Diablo  or  St.  Helena  above 


164  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

the  sea,  —  literally,  Pelion  on  Ossa.  For  we  can  now 
see  plainly  the  true  shape  of  this  volcanic  mountain. 
Its  apex  is  divided  into  two  craters.  The  one  at 
the  left  hand,  the  lower  of  the  two,  is  shaped  like  a 
sugar-loaf,  with  the  top  cut  off;  yet  above  the  circu- 
lar rim  of  this  flat  top  rises  a  small  pyramid,  giving 
the  whole  mass  a  very  peculiar  appearance.  The 
right  hand  and  higher  peak  is  less  regular  and  for- 
mal in  shape.  Its  northerly  slope  comes  down  to 
join  the  left  hand  cone  in  a  sharp,  clean  line,  the 
depression  between  being  filled  with  a  broad  field  of 
snow;  but  the  southerly  slope  has  a  much  reduced 
inclination,  running  to  the  timber  line  far  below,  and 
its  knife-blade  edge,  composed  of  volcanic  conglom- 
erate, is  broken  into  the  most  fantastic  shapes,  sug- 
gesting castellated  structures  at  times,  but  oftener  the 
forms  of  gnomes  and  demons.  The  Indians  imagine 
these  weird  shapes  to  be,  indeed,  a  kind  of  mountain 
sprites,  which  they  call  appetunes,  and  which  appear 
in  watchful  and  observant  attitudes,  as  if  on  guard 
against  mortal  intrusion.     The  face  of  this  peak,  be- 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  1 65 

tween  the  outlines,  is  a  steep  bluff,  depressed  below 
the  wall-like  upper  edge  of  bright  red  breccia,  and 
scarcely  half  covered  at  this  season  with  long  bands 
of  snow.  The  summit  has  several  sharp  points, 
which  rise  above  the  basin  of  an  ice-filled  crater,  in- 
visible from  below,  as  is  the  basin  of  the  left  hand 
crater.  The  lower  peak  —  called  distinctively  "  Cra- 
ter Peak "  —  is  a  uniform  chocolate-drab  in  color, 
viewed  closely ;  while  the  higher  point  —  called  "The 
Main  Peak" — diversifies  this  color  with  its  bluff  and 
ragged  edges  of  red  breccia,  with  a  band  of  black 
rock  and  beds  of  ashy  debris.  Late  in  the  summer 
the  snow  is  quite  gone  from  the  surface  of  Crater 
Peak  upon  the  steep  southern  side,  remaining  always 
at  the  top,  however,  and  in  the  depression  between 
it  and  the  other  peak.  The  southern  face  of  the 
Main  Peak  is  never  free  from  snow.  As  measured 
by  the  State  Geological  Survey,  the  outline  of  Crater 
Peak  has  an  inclination  of  360 ;  that  of  the  Main 
Peak  has  an  inclination  of  270  to  2 8°  on  the  shorter, 
andt  of    300  to    310  on  the  longer  side.     As  we  con- 


1 66  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

template  these  outlines  from  below,  the  task  of  climb- 
ing either  of  them  seems  formidable  enough,  and  it 
is  certain  that  portions  of  the  slope  to  be  passed  over 
are  steeper  than  the  measured  outline.  According 
to  Professor  Whitney's  "Report,"  published  in  1865, 
the  Crater  Peak  had  then  never  been  ascended,  and 
was  "  believed  by  many  to  be  quite  inaccessible." 
Its  sides,  he  adds,  "  appear  to  be  covered  with  loose 
volcanic  materials,  probably  ashes,  lying  at  the  high- 
est angle  possible  without  sliding  down."  The  steep- 
ness of  this  cone  was  not  exaggerated,  but  it  has 
since  been  frequently  climbed,  and  has  latterly  been 
included  on  the  route  to  the  Main  Peak  by  a  few  of 
the  strongest  and  most  resolute  climbers.  In  1871, 
Clarence  King's  party,  which  spent  six  weeks  on  and 
about  the  mountain,  scaled  up  this  side  cone  with 
instruments,  including  the  photographic  apparatus  of 
Watkins.  If  the  slopes  were  really  formed  of  ashes, 
or  other  fine  material,  they  could,  indeed,  hardly  be 
climbed,  as  they  would  offer  no  secure  footing  at 
such  a  steep  angle  ;  but  they  are  covered  with  angu- 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  1 67 

lar  blocks  of  trachyte,  sometimes  very  large,  formed 
by  the  breaking  down  of  the  crater  walls  above,  and 
affording  a  footing  in  the  steepest  places.  From 
our  camp,  these  rough  slopes  looked  smooth  enough 
to  be  ash-beds,  and  the  distance  to  the  top,  though 
several  miles,  and  involving  an  ascent  between  three 
thousand  and  four  thousand  feet  in  perpendicular 
height,  seemed  to  be  very  short  in  that  clear,  upper 
air.  Nearly  one  third  the  atmosphere  which  men 
breathe  was  already  below  us,  and  the  exertion  of 
bringing  wood  and  water  to  camp  and  spreading  our 
blankets  for  the  night  made  us  pant.  Thus  the  stra- 
tum of  atmosphere  above  was  thin  and  clear.  The 
early  stars  as  they  came  out  were  unusually  large 
and  lustrous,  and  later,  when  twilight  was  quite  gone, 
the  heavens  seemed  as  populous  with  bright  points, 
and  as  luminous,  as  in  southern  latitudes.  After 
nightfall,  the  temperature  of  the  air  was  at  the  freez- 
ing-point, and  as  the  snow  ceased  to  melt,  the  roar 
of  the  torrents  stopped,  and  no  sound  broke  the  aw- 
ful   solitude  of    the    mountain    after  we    took    to    our 


1 68  CAL1F0RNIAN  PICTURES. 

blankets,  except  the  occasional  stamping  of  the  horses 
on  the   clinking  lava. 

It  was  not  easy  to  sleep  in  such  a  place,  with  that 
brilliant  heaven  above,  and  the  massive  front  of  the 
peak  projected  like  a  shadow  against  the  eastern  sky, 
save. where  its  long  streaks  of  snow  gave  it  a  ghostly 
pallor.  We  often  woke,  and  gazed  long  at  the  glo- 
rious vision  overhead,  or  on  the  severe  outlines  of 
the  peak.  At  last  Sisson  arose,  declared  day  was 
about  to  break,  and  began  making  a  fire.  It  seemed 
impossible  the  night  was  so  near  gone ;  yet  there 
in  the  east,  right  over  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain, 
was  a  pale  silvery  glow  that  appeared  to  herald  morn- 
ing. It  brightened,  but  with  a  brightness  like  that 
of  the  moon,  and  just  then  the  planet  Venus,  large 
and  lambent,  —  "  like  a  rich  jewel  in  an  Ethiop's 
ear,"  —  rose  above  the  fantastic  outline  of  the  mount- 
ain to  the  right.  Attributing  his  mistake  to  the 
singular  purity  of  the  air  at  this  altitude,  Sisson  was 
fain  to  seek  another  nap.  It  was  not  long  until  day- 
break, however,  and  we  had  an  early  meal,  shivering 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  169 

until  warmed  by  the  hot  tea.  This  dispatched,  we 
began  the  ascent  of  Crater  Peak,  wearing  our  thick 
woolen  clothes,  and  carrying  iron-shod  and  spiked 
alpenstocks,  a  tin  flask  of  cold  tea,  and  some  food, 
a  man  remaining  behind  to  care  for  the  horses. 
Reaching  a  more  elevated  part  of  the  red  lava  field, 
we  could  see  the  first  light  of  the  sun  on  the  lofty 
crest  of  Scott  Mountain  in  the  west,  Shasta  before  us 
being  still  in  cold  gray,  its  enormous  cone  prevent- 
ing the  light  from  falling  on  its  own  westerly  side, 
and  casting  a  sharply  defined  pyramid-shaped  shadow 
thirty  miles  long  over  the  valleys  at  its  base  and  the 
mountain  range  beyond,  all  outside  of  this  dark  pur- 
ple shadow  being  in  sunlight  as  we  looked  wonder- 
ingly  below.  We  met  the  first  direct  beams  of  the 
sun  as  we  reached  the  foot  of  Crater  Peak,  and  now 
began  to  realize  the  rocky  roughness  of  its  slopes. 
Going  up  these  was  like  climbing  very  steep  stone 
stairs,  except  that  the  steps  were  uneven  and  often 
unsteady,  —  one  rock  tipping  on  another,  so  that  each 
planting   of   the  foot    had    to    be  calculated    to    avoid 


170  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

slipping  or  toppling,  —  and  that  the  placing  of  the 
alpenstock,  which  was  an  indispensable  support,  had 
also  to  be  studied.  Breathing  became  more  and 
more  difficult  in  the  increasingly  rare  atmosphere, 
and  but  a  few  yards  could  be  climbed  without  a  rest. 
The  beating  of  the  heart  was  audible  to  each  person, 
a  pallor  came  over  the  face,  and  the  eyes  were 
strained  in  their  sockets.  As  we  looked  upward  from 
time  to  time,  the  rim  of  the  flat  top  seemed  no 
nearer.  As  we  looked  down,  the  large  blocks  we 
had  overcome  grew  small,  and  the  apparently  fine 
debris  ahead  grew  large  when  we  reached  it.  The 
big  snow-fields  on  either  side  of  our  camp  shrunk 
into  little  patches ;  we  could  no  longer  distinguish 
the  camp  itself,  nor  the  horses.  The  steep  edge  of 
the  rounded  cone  on  the  northerly  side  was  drawn 
down  across  the  sky  in  one  tremendous  line  of  rock 
that  seemed  a  jumping-off  place  into  the  nether  air. 
We  were  insects  crawling  up  a  slanting  steeple,  far 
above  the  world.  The  view  below  was  awful  in  its 
depth   and  extent,  the  still  obscuring  smoke  giving  it 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  I  71 

a  character  of  mystery  and  indefiniteness.  There 
seemed  no  bound  to  that  blue,  hazy  gulf ;  and  above, 
to  the  left  as  we  climbed,  was  only  the  lofty  sky-line 
of  the  cone,  stretching  up,  up,  up.  An  occasional 
field  of  fine  debris,  which  slid  under  our  weary  limbs, 
made  us  glad  to  regain  the  securer  blocks  of  trachyte. 
On  the  latter  we  could  sit,  as  on  benches  of  stone, 
panting,  perspiring  somewhat  as  the  sun's  heat  was 
reflected  from  the  bare,  smooth  rocks,  but  always 
enjoying  the  grand  sensation  that  comes  from  being 
high  above  the  world,  on  a  narrow  point  of  its  crust. 
Under  our  feet,  as  we  climbed,  we  heard  constantly 
the  gurgle  and  murmur  of  an  unseen  torrent,  fed 
from  the  melting  snow  above  and  running  deep  below 
the  thick-piled  masses  of  rock  over  which  we  stepped. 
For  two  miles  or  more  we  climbed  above  the  chan- 
nel of  this  hidden  stream,  never  once  catching  the 
slightest  glimpse  of  the  water.  All  around  the 
mountain  there  are  subterranean  torrents  like  this, 
which  go  to  form  the  great  springs  that  leap  into 
rivers    at   its    foot,  — "  water,    water    everywhere,    nor 


172  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

any  drop    to    drink,"    except    that    in    the    flask   you 
carry. 

At  last  we  reached  the  rim  of  the  flattened  cone 
above,  but  not  yet  the  top  of  Crater  Peak.  There 
was  a  narrow  snow-field  to  cross,  lying  in  a  depres- 
sion, and  then  a  small  pyramid  of  broken  trachyte, 
about  five  hundred  feet  high,  capped  with  a  portion 
of  the  original  crater  wall,  to  clamber  up.  It  was 
eleven  o'clock  before  we  reached  the  latter  point, 
which  presented  itself  as  a  perpendicular  ledge  about 
twenty  feet  high,  but  so  creviced  and  broken  that  we 
got  easy  hand  and  foot  hold,  and  so  pulled  up  to 
the  top,  where  there  was  just  about  room  enough 
for  our  party  of  three  to  recline.  This  narrow  ledge 
is  the  very  summit  of  Crater  Peak,  and  is  nearly 
thirteen  thousand  feet  above  the  sea.  We  found 
here  the  small  monument  left  by  Clarence  King's 
party  two  years  before.  We  had  been  five  or  six 
hours  toiling  for  this  mark,  experiencing  much  diffi- 
culty in  breathing,  and  even  nausea,  from  the  effects 
of  the  highly  rarefied  air.     The  weather  was    unusu- 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  173 

ally  warm  for  the  locality,  and  no  clouds  obstructed 
the  direct  rays  of  the  sun.  The  climb  was,  there- 
fore, more  fatiguing,  and  respiration  more  difficult, 
than  they  would  have  been  had  a  cold  air  been 
blowing,  or  had  the  sun  been  overcast.  Sometimes 
parties  who  make  the  ascent  in  the  same  month 
(September)  encounter  bitterly  cold  winds  and  storms 
of  snow.  Thomas  Magee,  who  described  his  ascent 
in  "  Scribner's  Monthly,"  found  the  cold  so  severe 
that  it  partly  froze  the  tea  in  the  tin  canteen  at  his 
side.  But  warm  or  cold,  the  view  at  the  summit 
amply  repays  all  toil  and  hardship.  Even  if  the 
lower  country  be  hidden  in  smoke,  as  was  partly  the 
case  in  our  experience,  the  mountain  itself  is  a  grand 
sight  and  an  instructive  study.  Standing  on  the 
pinnacle  of  Crater  Peak,  its  sides  are  seen  to  descend 
at  a  steep  angle  all  around,  and  one  has  almost  a 
dizzy  sensation  on  realizing  the  immense  depth  into 
which  he  could  plunge  by  a  slight  effort,  or  tumble 
by  a  reckless  step.  On  the  north  side,  immediately 
beneath  the  eye,  lies  the  old  crater,  —  a  circular  cav- 


I  74  CALIFOKNIAN  PICTURES. 

ity  a  mile  across  and  a  thousand  feet  deep,  —  its 
bottom  and  part  of  its  steep  outer  and  inner  slopes 
covered  with  snow  and  ice.  The  wall  of  the  crater 
is  broken,  as  one  would  break  out  the  side  of  a  bowl 
for  a  quarter  of  its  circumference,  on  the  northwest- 
ern side,  above  Shasta  Valley.  The  edges  of  this 
break  must  be  one  thousand  five  hundred  feet  long, 
and  through  the  enormous  gap  thus  made  one  looks 
from  the  cliff  above  clear  down  to  the  valley  at  the 
base  of  the  mountain,  nearly  nine  thousand  feet,  the 
angle  of  the  view  being  fearfully  steep.  Shasta  Val- 
ley is  seen  to  be  dotted  with  small  volcanic  cones, 
—  miniatures  of  the  Black  Butte,  —  and  beyond,  along 
the  western  sky,  are  the  Scott  and  Siskiyou  mount- 
ains ;  and  beyond  these  again,  if  the  air  were  clear, 
we  could  see  the  straight  leaden  line  which  marks  the 
Pacific  Ocean.  On  the  southerly  side  of  Crater  Peak 
its  slope  descends  to  a  wide  gorge  one  thousand  two 
hundred  or  one  thousand  five  hundred  feet  deep, 
filled  with  frozen  snow  resting  on  a  substratum  of 
ice,  beyond  which    rises    the    Main    Peak,  more    than 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  I  75 

one  thousand  five  hundred  feet  higher  than  the  top 
of  Crater  Peak.  Its  northern  slope  is  regular  and 
abrupt,  but  its  crest  is  broken  into  several  craggy- 
points,  chief  of  which  are  three  needle-like  splinters 
rising  above  a  large  basin  and  forming  part  of  the 
walls  of  a  crater ;  while  the  southerly  slope  runs  off 
in  a  long,  curving,  broken  line,  fantastically  ragged 
on  its  sky-edge  of  highly  colored  breccia.  On  the 
summit  are  sulphur  springs,  hot  enough  to  boil  eggs, 
and  considerable  deposits  of  sulphur — the  last  relics 
of  the  former  tremendous  volcanic  activity  which 
covered  with  lava  all  the  slopes  and  valley  bases  of 
Mount  Shasta,  for  more  than  a  hundred  miles  around. 
What  remains  of  the  crater  on  the  Main  Peak  is 
filled  with  ice  to  a  great  depth,  and  from  this  source, 
through  a  cleft  on  the  northeasterly  side,  descends 
the  slow  moving  mass  of  the  Whitney  Glacier,  —  a 
genuine  river  of  ice,  half  a  mile  wide  and  perhaps 
seven  miles  long,  —  the  true  character  of  which  was 
first  determined  by  Clarence  King  so  recently  as 
1 87 1.     All    the  northerly  flanks  of  the  mountain  are 


I  76  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

largely  covered  with  snow  and  ice  above  an  eleva- 
tion of  eight  thousand  or  nine  thousand  feet,  and  on 
that  side,  also,  there  is  another  deep  gorge  between 
the  two  peaks.  Leaving  our  perch  above  the  lower 
crater,  we  crawl  down  the  ledge  toward  this  gorge, 
and  cross  a  small  pond  of  smooth  blue  ice  at  its  base. 
It  was  on  this  level  spot  that  Watkins  pitched  his 
field-tent  for  photographic  work,  and  when  he  thought 
he  had  the  light  all  shut  off,  found  that  enough  still 
came  through  the  ice  floor  to  spoil  his  negatives, 
obliging  him  to  cover  that  also.  The  surface  of  this 
ice,  as  of  the  large  snow-field  adjoining,  was  slightly- 
melting.  But  the  air  was  sensibly  cooler  on  this 
side  of  the  mountain,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  be  walk- 
ing again  on  a  comparatively  level  surface. 

At  the  right  of  the  crater  there  is  a  long  dike  of 
crumbling  siliceous  and  sulphurous  rock,  which  we 
traced  half  a  mile  in  a  direction  nearly  east  and  west, 
resembling  one  of  the  metalliferous  lodes  in  its  struct- 
ure, having  side  walls  of  trachytic  rock,  and  being 
rilled  for  a  width  of   two  or   three  feet  with  a  white 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  177 

pasty  mass,  which  on  exposure  hardens  to  the  appear- 
ance of  silicate  of  soda,  more  or  less  discolored  with 
sulphur,  fumes  of  which  still  came  up  through  this 
curious  vent,  scenting  the  air.  Here  we  rested  for 
half  an  hour,  ate  our  luncheon,  and  gathered  speci- 
mens. A  slight  descent  brought  us  to  the  rim  of 
the  crater  wall,  sharp  as  the  edge  of  a  roof,  and  its 
snowy  slopes  descending  on  either  side  steeper  than 
the  angle  of  a  roof.  The  melting  crust  on  this  rim 
was  just  wide  enough  for  us  to  walk  in  single  file, 
covering  our  eyes  with  gauze  to  protect  them  from 
danger  of  snow-blindness.  The  crust  had  been  carved 
by  alternate  melting  and  freezing,  aided  by  the  wind, 
into  furrows  with  knife-blade  edges,  which  would 
make  hard  walking  on  cold  days.  But  warm  as  the 
day  was,  it  was  interesting  to  observe  how  slightly  its 
influence  penetrated  the  frozen  snow  and  ice.  Even 
on  the  steep  slopes  of  broken  rock,  where  no  snow 
was  visible,  we  found  that  ice  was  spread  everywhere 
at  a  slight  depth  below  the  surface  ;  and  as  we  laid 
down  where  this  debris  was  finer  than  usual,  it  began 


1 78  CALIF0RN1AN  PICTURES. 

to  melt  only  with  the  heat  of  the  body.  Digging  a 
little  with  the  iron  point  of  an  alpenstock,  we  found 
ice  where  we  had  not  before  suspected  its  existence, 
and  the  surface-melting  of  these  covered  ice-beds  was 
the  cause  of  many  of  those  hidden  torrents  which 
ceased  to  run  and  roar  after    night-fall. 

Leaving  the  curving  roof-line  of  the  crater  edge, 
and  walking  along  the  side  of  an  abrupt  incline  of 
loose  debris  largely  made  up  of  such  materials  as 
composed  the  curious  dike  above  described,  we  came 
to  a  projecting  point  where  we  could  look  up  and 
down  the  northerly  slope  of  the  Main  Peak,  and 
could  plainly  trace  the  course  of  the  Whitney  Gla- 
cier for  five  miles.  The  peak  on  this  side  is  three- 
pronged,  and  the  glacier  heads  up  between  two  of 
the  prongs.  Beginning  at  an  angle  sharper  than  any 
previously  noticed,  it  soon  assumes  a  gentler  incline, 
and  finally  reaches  the  lower  slope  of  the  mountain 
nearly  on    a    level,   broadening    at    this    point   to    its 

widest    dimensions.     The    head,    and    all    the   steeper 

1 
part  of    the  glacier,  present  a  surface    of   clean,  mar- 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  I  79 

ble-like  neve,  marked  with  numerous  transverse  cre- 
vasses, which  open  very  large  cavities  and  expose 
walls  of  blue  ice.  The  upper  side  of  the  first  cre- 
vasse, near  the  head  of  the  glacier,  seemed  to  be 
quite  sixty  feet  above  the  lower.  The  difference  in 
elevation  of  the  crevasse  walls  lessened,  of  course, 
with  the  reduced  an^le  of  the  oiacier's  inclination, 
until  these  openings  were  simply  even  gaps  across 
the  ice.  A  mile  or  two  below  the  summit  the  sur- 
face was  burdened  and  partly  hid  with  lateral  mo- 
raines, which  lower  down  completely  hid  the  ice,  save 
where  the  black  debris  was  parted  by  an  occasionally 
wide  crevasse,  or  a  portion  of  it  had  sunk  bodily 
into  the  ice,  leaving  a  cavity  filled  with  blue  water. 
The  morainal  matter  had  accumulated  in  one  place 
to  a  height,  apparently,  of  not  less  than  fifty  feet. 
Owing  to  the  mildness  of  the  preceding  winter,  when 
comparatively  little  snow  fell,  followed  by  a  very  long 
season  of  clear,  warm  weather  through  spring  and 
summer,  the  surface  of  the  neve  was  much  reduced 
in    thickness,  and    the   line    of    recent   glacial  cutting 


1 80  CALIFORNIA^  PICTURES. 

along  the  banks  of  volcanic  material  was  boldly  ex- 
hibited. The  northerly  and  easterly  slopes  of  the 
mountain,  which  are  bare  of  timber  far  below  the 
timber-line  on  the  other  side,  are  composed  of  blocks 
of  trachyte,  lava,  and  pumice,  succeeded  by  an  ex- 
tensive outflow,  lower  down,  of  basalt.  Into  this 
material  the  stream  flowing  from  the  Whitney  Gla- 
cier sinks,  disappearing  under  the  mass  of  the  ter- 
minal moraine. 

Beyond  this  glacier,  easterly,  is  a  smaller  one, 
named  variously  the  McCloud  and  Mud  Creek  Gla- 
cier, which  was  partly  visible  from  our  last  point  of 
observation.  We  could  hear  the  larger  ice-stream 
constantly  cracking,  and  at  intervals  heavy  detona- 
tions succeeded  to  this  sound.  We  could  hear,  also, 
the  roar  and  rumble  of  torrents  in  half  a  dozen  dif- 
ferent directions.  But  Shasta  bears  on  its  easterly 
flank  a  still  greater  glacier, —  one  not  less  than  three 
or  four  miles  wide,  —  which  was  named  by  its  dis- 
coverer, Clarence  King,  the  Agassiz  Glacier.  A  trip 
of    sixty  miles  around  the  base    of    the    mountain    is 


ASCENT  OF  MO  UNI'  SHASTA.  l8l 

necessary  to  approach  it,  so  we  caught  no  glimpse  of 
it.  Mr.  King,  in  his  fascinating  record  of  "  Mount- 
aineering in  the  Sierra  Nevada,"  has  described  its 
appearance,  and  his  perilous  climb  over  it,  with  vivid 
power.  One  remark  he  makes  with  reference  to  it 
applies  generally  to  the  other  glaciers  on  Shasta ;  it 
is  this :  "  The  idea  of  a  mountain  glacier,  formed  from 
Swiss  or  Indian  views,  is  always  of  a  stream  of  ice 
walled  in  by  more  or  less  lofty  ridges.  Here  a  great 
curved  cover  of  ice  flows  down  the  conical  surface 
of  a  volcano  without  lateral  walls,  a  few  lava  pinna- 
cles and  inconspicuous  piles  of  debris  separating  it 
from  the  next  glacier."  Except  towards  its  head,  the 
Whitney  Glacier  evenly  fills  the  depression  it  occu- 
pies, much  as  the  Sacramento  River  fills  its  channel 
on  reaching  the  broad  valley. 

Apart  from  its  isolation,  the  sudden  uplift  of  nearly 
three  fourths  of  its  entire  bulk,  and  its  peculiar  beauty 
of  color,  Mount  Shasta  is  remarkable  for  being  the 
only  mountain  in  California  whose  flanks  are  bur- 
dened with  living  glaciers.     The  ice-field    on    Mount 


I  iS  2  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

Lyell,  in  the  Yosemite  region,  which  has  been  de- 
scribed as  a  glacier,  is  asserted  by  Whitney  and  King 
not  to  deserve  that  title ;  although  Mr.  Muir,  who 
has  given  the  subject  close  study,  declares  that  on 
Mount  Lyell  and  on  several  companion  peaks  true 
glaciers  exist,  but  of  feeble  vitality.  The  taller  peak 
of  Mount  Whitney,  five  hundred  miles  south  of 
Shasta,  in  a  latitude  where  the  snow-line  extends 
much  above  the  limit  in  northern  California  and  Or- 
egon, is  without  a  glacier,  as  it  is  also  without  those 
singular  fields  of  rock-covered  ice  which  exist  on  the 
upper  slopes  of  Shasta.  With  the  exception  of  this 
beautiful  California  peak,  no  mountains  in  the  United 
States  bear  true  glaciers  but  Mount  Hood,  in  Ore- 
gon, Mount  Rainier  and  adjacent  peaks,  in  Wash- 
ington Territory,  and  the  Arctic  peaks  of  Alaska, 
whose  glaciers  push  quite  down  to  the  sea  and  send 
off  fleets  of  icebergs.  The  grand  glacier  on  Mount 
Rainier,  discovered,  we  believe,  by  officers  of  the 
United  States  Coast  Survey,  has  been  described  to 
the  writer  as  rivaling,  if    not  surpassing,  anything  in 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  1 83 

the  Alps.  Considering  how  easily  Shasta  can  be 
reached,  and  with  what  perfect  safety  it  can  be 
climbed  and  examined,  except  on  the  larger  ice-fields, 
it  is  remarkable  that  it  is  not  more  sought  by  tour- 
ists. A  knowledge  of  glacial  phenomena  is  now  uni- 
versally acknowledged  to  be  of  leading  importance 
in  the  study  of  the  earth's  superficial  conformation, 
and  much  could  be  learned  in  this  field  of  inquiry 
on  Shasta,  where  not  alone  living  but  the  track  of 
extinct  glaciers  may  be  profitably  observed,  for  in 
every  direction  around  the  mountain  exist  the  evi- 
dences of  former  glacial  action. 

It  was  with  great  reluctance,  in  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon,  that  we  left  our  perch  overlooking  the 
Whitney  Glacier  to  return  to  camp.  It  was  hard 
work  to  climb  up  the  slope  of  sliding  debris  we  had 
just  descended  from  Crater  Peak,  and  our  legs  trem- 
bled when  we  reached  the  icy  rim  of  the  crater  and 
faced  its  blinding  glare.  Resting  again  at  the  very 
top,  we  gazed  lingeringly  at  the  higher  peak  to  the 
left,  with  its  cascade  of    neve  and  ice  plunging  down 


1 84  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

so  precipitously  for  thousands  of  feet ;  at  the  deep 
crater  bowl  to  the  right,  almost  under  our  feet ;  at 
the  cone-dotted,  yellow,  hazy  valley  of  Shasta,  seen 
through  the  broken  wall  of  the  crater  over  a  mile 
and  a  half  below ;  at  the  violet  crest  of  the  Scott 
Mountain  range  beyond,  and  the  dark  cone  of  Black 
Butte  thrust  up  in  the  trough  between.  But  for  the 
smoke,  we  should  have  seen  to  the  northward  the 
whole  Klamath  region,  with  its  lakes  and  lava-beds, 
where  the  Modocs  played  their  miserable  tragedy ; 
should  have  seen  the  snowy  peaks  of  the  Oregon 
Cascade  Range ;  should  have  seen  to  the  east  the 
desert  plateau  of  Nevada  as  far  as  the  Utah  line; 
should  have  seen  to  the  south  the  trough-like  valley 
of  the  Sacramento  nearly  to  the  mouth  of  that  stream, 
with  all  the  bold  crest-line  of  the  Sierra  Nevada 
range  on  one  side,  and  the  softer  swell  of  the  Coast 
Range  on  the  other,  with  a  strip  of  the  Pacific  Ocean 
near  Humboldt  Bay.  Mr.  A.  Roman,  who  was  one 
of  a  small  party  that  climbed  Shasta  in  April,  1856, 
—  a  most  perilous  season,  —  told    the  writer  that  the 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  1 85 

atmosphere  at  that  time  was  wonderfully  clear,  and 
the  view  simply  stupendous.  He  declares  that  he 
saw  distinctly  all  the  high  peaks,  from  the  Washing- 
ton group  on  the  north  to  the  Sierra  peaks  around 
Lake  Tahoe,  and  the  Coast  Range  peaks  about  San 
Francisco,  —  a  distance  on  a  direct  line  of  nearly 
eight  hundred  miles  !  Within  the  limits  of  this  view 
the  Sacramento  Valley  and  the  topography  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada  were,  he  says,  revealed  with  won- 
derful distinctness.  The  air  was  as  if  purged  and 
filtered,  and  presented  only  a  slight  gray  film  be- 
tween the  eye  and  the  most  distant  objects.  There 
seemed  no  limit  to  the  vision  except  the  convexity 
of  the  earth's  surface.  Probably  in  very  clear  weather 
the  view  extends  for  quite  five  hundred  miles.  Mr. 
Roman's  party,  and  himself  in  particular,  suffered 
dreadfully  from  the  cold  on  the  summit.  He  took  a 
thermometer  from  his  clothes  to  observe  the  temper- 
ature, and  as  he  held  it  in  his  hand  the  mercury 
speedily  dropped  to  120  below  zero.  How  much 
lower  it  would    have  gone  he  could    not  tell,  for   his 


1 86  CALIFORNIA^  PICTURES. 

stiffened  fingers  lost  their  grip,  the  instrument  fell 
from  his  numb  hand  and  was  broken.  He  was  snow- 
blind  and  frost-bitten  on  returning  to  Yreka,  and  so 
altered  in  appearance  that  his  own  brother  did  not 
know  him.  Sisson  told  us  that  he  had  been  up  the 
mountain  much  later  in  the  spring,  or  in  early  sum- 
mer, when  the  winds  were  so  cold  and  strong  that 
he  had  to  cling  to  the  rocks  with  his  hands,  when 
scaling  the  summit  of  the  Main  Peak,  to  prevent 
beinor  blown  off  and  hurled  to  destruction.  Yet  as 
we  had  this  talk  the  air  was  no  cooler  than  that  of 
a  balmy  winter  day  at  San  Francisco,  and  our  thick 
woolen  clothes,  while  we  exercised,  were  almost  bur- 
densome. Mr.  John  Muir,  who  ascended  the  mount- 
ain alone  in  November,  1874,  encountered  a  snow- 
storm on  the  very  summit,  but  his  hardy  habits 
protected  him  from  injury.  Waking  one  morning 
after  it  subsided  he  saw  a  sublime  spectacle,  which 
he  thus  describes  :  "  A  boundless  wilderness  of  storm- 
clouds  of  different  age  and  ripeness  were  congregated 
over  all  the  landscape  for  thousands  of  square  miles, 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  187 

colored  gray  and  purple,  and  pearl  and  glowing  white, 
among  which  I  seemed  to  be  floating,  while  the  cone 
of  Shasta  above  and  the  sky  was  tranquil  and  full  of 
the  sun.  It  seemed  not  so  much  an  ocean  as  a  land 
of  clouds,  undulating  hill  and  dale,  smooth  purple 
plains,  and  silvery  mountains  of  cumuli,  range  over 
range,  nobly  diversified  with  peaks  and  domes,  with 
cool  shadows  between,  and  with  here  and  there  a 
wide  trunk  canon,  smooth  and  rounded  as  if  eroded 
by  glaciers." 

Resting  on  the  top  crag  of  Crater  Peak  before  de- 
scending, we  observed  more  closely  the  utter  absence 
of  vegetation  for  thousands  of  feet  below.  After 
leaving  the  Pimis  flexilis  at  our  camp  on  the  lava, 
where  there  were  sparse  bunches  of  a  hardy  grass, 
and  a  few  plants  like  portulacca  growing  in  shady 
crevices,  an  occasional  lichen  was  all  that  appeared, 
and  at  the  summit  the  lichens  were  no  longer  to  be 
seen.  On  one  snow-field  there  was  a  slight  trace 
left  of  Tococcus  nivalis,  —  the  "  red  snow,"  so  called, 
—  a  very  low  form  of   vegetable   life,  which  is  some- 


1 88  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

times  so  abundant  on  this  mountain  as  to  color  the 
foot-prints  in  the  snow  blood-red.  For  three  or  four 
thousand  feet  below,  the  eye  took  in  nothing  but  a 
wreck  of  rocky  matter,  of  red  and  black  lava-flow, 
of  gray-colored  scoriaceous  debris,  except  where  the 
snow  and  ice  covered  the  surface  and  made  it  even 
more  arctic  and  desolate.  Yet  animal  life  was  not 
quite  absent.  Lifting  a  piece  of  loose  rock  near  the 
surveyor's  monument,  we  revealed  a  little  colony  of 
lady-bugs,  of  a  dark  cinnamon  color,  with  many 
darker  spots.  The  tiny  creatures  crawled  away  feebly, 
making  no  effort  to  fly.  What  they  could  live  on 
there  we  could  not  conjecture.  A  few  snow-birds 
were  twittering  a  thousand  or  two  thousand  feet  be- 
low, and  nearly  up  to  the  very  crest  of  the  Main  Peak 
we  saw  a  solitary  California  vulture  wheeling  slowly 
around.  Sisson  says  he  once  found  a  dead  squirrel 
on  that  peak,  which  had  probably  been  dropped  there 
by  a  bird  of  prey,  and  at  another  time  he  saw  there 
a  living  mouse.  The  large-horned  mountain  sheep, 
apparently    the    same    species    as    that   found    in    the 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SHASTA.  189 

Rocky  Mountains,  has  occasionally  been  seen  near 
the  summit,  and  once  an  animal  thought  to  be  an 
ibex  was  observed. 

Going  down  the  rocky  slope  of  Crater  Peak,  we 
heard  again  the  gurgle  of  the  hidden  torrent.  The 
descent  was  very  tiresome,  and  a  little  hazardous  to 
one's  limbs,  for  a  fall  among  the  larger  masses  or  a 
slide  in  the  small  debris  might  easily  result  in  a  fract- 
ure. Earlier  in  the  year  much  labor  is  saved  by 
sliding  down  on  the  snow.  But  we  reached  the  base 
at  last  in  safety,  very  weary,  and  glad  to  put  foot 
again  on  the  lava-flow  that  led  to  camp,  where  we 
arrived  almost  too  weary  to  care  for  the  red  sunset 
through  bars  of  clouds,  which  was  repeated  in  the 
western  sky,  reminding  us  of  the  appearance  of  that 
luminary  to  Campbell's  "  last  man."  How  sweet  sleep 
was  that  night !  No  more  deception  with  the  morn- 
ing star.  Again  at  sunrise,  however,  we  were  off, 
this  time  mounted  and  bound  homeward.  Facing 
the  west  as  we  rode  down  the  slope  of  the  mount- 
ain, we  saw  once  more  the  sharp  cone  of  its  shadow, 


190  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

lying  far  across  the  valleys  at  its  foot,  up  the  flank  of 
Scott  Mountain  beyond,  and  across  its  snowy  crest, 
the  faint  light  trembling  along  its  purple  edges  and 
gradually  crawling  into  its  place  as  the  shadow  of 
the  great  peak  retreated.  The  trail  down  the  mount- 
ain is  steep  and  rough  for  horses,  and  very  tiresome 
for  riders.  The  comparative  level  of  the  forest-belt 
is  welcome.  In  the  black  soil  of  the  fir  wood  we 
often  saw  the  fresh  track  of  bears.  Arrived  at  the 
only  spring  on  the  way  down,  we  saw  three  deer. 
The  graceful  creatures  moved  off  very  slowly  and 
safely,  Sisson  with  his  gun,  fortunately  for  them,  hav- 
ing turned  into  a  side  trail  some  distance  back. 

At  the  house  in  Strawberry  Valley  once  more, 
after  a  journey  of  two  and  a  half  days,  we  turned  to 
look  at  the  grand  peak  with  its  twin  cones  —  all  its 
ruggedness  gone,  its  long  outlines  and  vast  front 
smoothed  by  distance,  and  a  sunny  haze  clothing  it 
in  tender  beauty.  Often  since  we  have  revisited  it 
in  dreams,  and  longed,  on  waking,  for  its  restful 
solitude. 


THE  MEADOW  LARK. 

BERKELEY,  FEBRUARY  23,  1874. 


Trill,  happy  lark,  thy  brief,  sweet  lay, 

From  out  a  breast  as  brown 
As  were  the  hills  in  autumn  day 

Before  the  rains  came  down. 

The  beaming  sun,  the  dripping  showers, 

Are  in  thy  simple  notes ; 
Earth  smiles  to  hear  in  grass  and  flowers, 

And  bright  the  cloudlet,  floats. 

On  Alameda's  mountain  line 

The  violet's  tender  hue, 
With  dappled  spots  of  shade  and  shine, 

Is  painted  'gainst  the  blue. 


192  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

The  meadow  slopes  to  meet  the  bay, 

The  gulls  in  flocks  uprise ; 
And  far  above  the  waters  gray 

Soars  purple  Tamalpais. 

Beyond  is  ocean's  wide  expanse, 
Where,  through  the  Golden  Gate, 

The  ships  with  snowy  canvas  dance, 
Or  on  the  breezes  wait. 

Fair  day,  bright  scene  !     The  hill,  the  tree, 

The  poppy's  running  flame, 
The  silver  cloud,  the  sunny  sea, 

Spring's  coming  all  proclaim. 

But  sweeter,  dearer,  far  than  all 

I  love  the  liquid  sound 
That  from  the  sky  the  lark  lets  falls 

Whene'er  he  spurns  the  ground. 

Though  all  too  short,  his  carols  give 
Back  to  my  heart  once  more 

The  thoughtless  joy  that  used  to  live 
In  happy  days  of  yore. 


f  ,?■;■£ 


ill 


irai^ifc  __  .    .         Jtiui 


THE  GEYSERS. 


Yosemite,  the  Big  Trees,  and  the  Geysers  are 
thought  by  California  tourists  to  be  the  great  won- 
der of  the  Golden  State,  next  to  her  matchless  cli- 
mate and  the  modesty  of  her  people.  Much  has 
been  written  about  the  marvelous  gorge  in  the  Si- 
erra, where  rivers  are  flung  over  granite  precipices ; 
and  the  diameter  and  altitude  of  the  giant  sequoia 
are  familiar  enough  to  the  ordinary  reader ;  but  less 
has  been  said  about  the  Geysers,  although  they  pos- 
sess features  of  remarkable  interest.  Geysers  they 
are  not,  in  the  sense  in  which  the  word  is  usually 
understood  ;  and  the  traveler  who  expects  to  see,  on 
reaching  this  locality,  high  fountains  of  boiling  water 
like  those  in  Iceland  and  the  Yellowstone  region, 
13 


194  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

will  be  disappointed.  Yet  are  they  richly  worth  the 
journey,  as  the  journey  itself  is  its  own  sufficient  re- 
ward without  any  other  motive  than  the  scenery 
along  the  route.  Suppose,  reader,  you  have  crossed 
the  Sierra  Nevada,  breathed  its  exhilarating  air, 
scented  with  the  aromatic  odor  of  its  magnificent 
pines  and  cedars ;  been  enraptured  with  the  softer 
beauties  at  its  base,  hazy  with  the  heat  of  its  golden 
summer,  or  stretching  far  the  clear  perspective  of  its 
verdurous  and  flowery  spring,  and  then  have  met  on 
the  Bay  of  San  Francisco  the  cool  air  that  blows  in 
from  the  Pacific  through  the  Golden  Gate  ;  you  still 
have  not  exhausted  the  contrasts  and  pleasures  of 
California  scenery.  Resting  a  while  in  the  many- 
hilled  metropolis,  which  sprawls  over  a  narrow  pen- 
insula of  sand  and  rock,  resolve  to  go  to  the  Gey- 
sers before  you  try  the  all-else-belittling  grandeur  of 
Yosemite.  This  is  the  route.  Besides  the  broad 
Sacramento  Valley,  two  narrow  Coast  Range  valleys 
open  from  the  bay  on  the  north, —  Sonoma  and 
Napa,  —  each    some   forty  miles   long   by  an  average 


THE    GEYSERS.  195 

width  not  exceeding  three  miles,  nearly  level,  and 
bounded  by  high  ridges  of  metamorphic  rock  of  the 
cretaceous  period,  which  sometimes  break  down  into 
low-rolling  hills  that  invade  the  plain,  giving  its  sur- 
face a  picturesque  variety.  Napa  Valley  —  named 
from  a  nearly  extinct  tribe  of  aborigines  —  is  the 
inner  one  of  the  two.  Like  its  companion,  it  is  trav- 
ersed for  a  part  of  its  length  by  a  creek,  navigable 
so  far  as  the  tide  extends,  which  empties  into  the 
bay  through  a  wide  expanse  of  salt  marsh.  Through 
either  valley  the  mountain  road  that  leads  to  the 
Geysers  may  be  reached.  The  usual  route,  however, 
is  through  Napa  Valley.  A  steamboat  sail  of  twenty- 
five  miles  from  San  Francisco  to  Vallejo  begins  the 
trip  delightfully,  affording  a  fine  view  of  the  city, — 
dusty,  gusty,  and  gray  on  its  vaporous  heights  ;  of 
the  grimly  fortified  Alcatraz  Island,  which  lies  like 
a  snag  in  the  mouth  of  the  harbor ;  of  the  Golden 
Gate,  with  its  red  brick  fort  on  one  side,  its  white 
light-house  on  the  other,  and  brown  or  green  head- 
lands, fleets  of   inward  or  outward  bound  sails    pass- 


196  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

ing  between ;  of  Mount  Tamalpais,  that  lifts  its  pur- 
ple cone  in  tender  beauty  to  the  right,  nearly  two 
thousand  six  hundred  feet  above  the  sea  it  over- 
looks ;  of  the  Alameda  slopes  and  ridges  that  bound 
the  eastern  shore,  topped  by  Mount  Diablo,  a  still 
higher  peak  ;  of  the  red  rock  islets  in  the  upper  bay, 
whitened  on  their  tops  by  birds  that  hover  or  settle 
there  ;  of  the  bare,  low,  mound-like  hills  that  open  as 
the  boat  approaches  Mare  Island  Straits,  that  are 
either  brown  or  green  according  to  the  season,  but 
always  graceful  in  outline,  and  suggesting  rumpled 
velvet,  with  their  slight  indentations  and  mottled 
shadows  ;  over  all  this  varied  scene  a  blue  sky  dashed 
with  gray,  which  reflects  its  own  hue  in  the  dancing, 
sparkling  waters  of  the  bay  and  melts  into  hazy  lilac 
around  the  hilly  horizon. 

Mare  Island,  the  site  of  what  is  at  present  the 
most  important  navy -yard  in  the  United  States,  is 
a  long,  flat  body  of  land,  very  slightly  elevated  above 
the  water,  and  on  the  western  side  of  the  straits. 
The  opposite   shore  is  hilly,  its   lower  slopes  covered 


THE    GEYSERS.  197 

with  the  thrifty  town  of  Vallejo,  once  the  capital  of 
the  State,  and  now  the  railroad  and  trade  centre  of 
the  northern  coast-valley  region.  Here  we  take  the 
cars  for  Napa  and  Calistoga,  beginning  a  railroad 
ride  of  forty-four  miles  through  the  Rasselas  Valley 
of  reality,  whose  charms  surpass  those  of  Wyoming 
as  much  as  the  red  tints  of  this  semi-tropical  clime 
surpass  the  cold  colors  of  the  north.  The  trip  is 
usually  made  toward  evening,  when  the  atmospheric 
effects  are  most  beautiful.  As  the  valley  is  filled 
with  settlers  and  contains  half  a  dozen  pretty  towns, 
its  surface  is  marked  with  cultivated  fields,  with  rich 
masses  of  green  or  golden  grain,  orchards  laden  with 
blossoms  or  fruit,  vineyards  whose  cleanly  kept  vines 
shine  in  the  sun  as  though  they  smiled  over  the 
genial  harvest  they  are  maturing.  The  natural  feat- 
ures of  the  valley  are  park-like  groves  of  oak,  which 
grow  thickest  where  they  belt  the  course  of  the 
creek,  and  are  there  mixed  with  sycamore,  alders,  wil- 
lows, and  a  plentiful  undergrowth  of  wild  vines  and 
bushes.     The   spaces   in  the    oak-openings  which  are 


198 


CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 


not  cultivated  are  free  from  underbrush,  the  soil  bear- 
ing a  native  crop  of  wild  oats   and  flowers,  the  deep 


Valley    Oaks 


orange  tint  of  the  large  California  poppy    (Papavera 
Eschscholtzid)    being   conspicuous    among    the    latter 


THE    GEYSERS.  1 99 

in  spring  and  summer.  When  the  oat-crop  is  ripe, 
its  brilliant  gold  colors  the  landscape  in  every  direc- 
tion over  the  valley,  far  up  the  lower  slopes  of  the 
adjoining  ridges,  and  often  even  to  their  very  tops. 
The  several  varieties  of  evergreen  oaks,  with  their 
short  trunks,  cauliflower-shaped  masses  of  intensely 
dark  green  foliage,  and  sharp  shadows,  then  seem  like 
oases  in  the  hot  expanse  —  grateful  islets  of  verdure 
in  a  sea  of  shimmering  yellow  light.  On  the  roll- 
ing lands  most  exposed  to  sea  winds,  the  oaks,  con- 
torted, dwarfed,  and  thorny-leaved  as  the  holly,  nes- 
tle together  in  groups  and  fit  their  slanting  boughs 
to  the  outlines  of  the  hills,  making  cool,  sequestered 
bowers  of  the  most  inviting  character.  Towards  the 
upper  end  of  the  valley  the  massive  trunks,  tall 
forms,  and  expansive  foliage  of  the  deciduous  oaks, 
present  a  striking  contrast  to  these  hardy  dwarfs 
who  have  to  struggle  for  life.  The  willow-oak,  re- 
markable for  the  pendant  strips  of  leafage  nearly 
touching  the  ground,  from  which  it  derives  its  name, 
is    particularly    conspicuous.       One    notes,     too,    the 


200  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

great  rounded  masses  of  mistletoe  clinging  to  sev- 
eral varieties  of  oak,  and  the  scarlet-leaved  vines 
that  sometimes  cling  about  their  trunks,  rivaling  in 
color  the  plumage  of  the  woodpecker  who  digs  his 
acorn-holes  in  the  bark  above.  Darting  through 
one  of  these  noble  groves,  venerable  with  mosses, 
one  has  charming  views  of  the  mountains  on  either 
side  the  valley,  their  ravines  dark  with  timber,  their 
upper  slopes  clad  with  pine  and  fir,  their  northern 
and  sea  exposures  luxuriant  with  forests  of  the  red- 
wood, own  cousin  to  the  Sequoia  gigantea.  The 
outline  of  the  ridges  is  sometimes  made  very  pict- 
uresque, not  to  say  fantastic,  by  outcropping  masses 
of  metamorphic  sandstone,  cut  into  mural  or  battle- 
mented  shapes  by  the  elements.  When  the  atmos- 
phere wraps  them  in  its  haze,  and  they  recede  into 
skyey  blendings  of  all  violet  and  purple  tints,  their 
contrast  with  the  softening  gold  and  green  of  the 
valley-levels  is  most  exquisite.  And  when  the  sun 
sinks  behind  the  more  distant  mountain  masses  they 
glow  through    as    if    molten    and    transparent,  or   no 


THE    GEYSERS.  201 

more  substantial  than  the  cloud  that  may  be  burn- 
ing above  them,  until  the  sun  gathers  back  to  him- 
self all  the  arrows  he  shot  over  the  plain,  and  the 
slant  shadows  spread,  mingle,  and  deepen  into  twi- 
light. 

At  the  head  of  Napa  Valley  stands  Mount  St. 
Helena,  the  culminating  point  of  the  ridges  between 
the  Bay  of  San  Francisco  and  Clear  Lake.  It  is  a 
mass  of  volcanic  rock  four  thousand  three  hundred 
and  forty-three  feet  high  ;  the  apparently  single  point 
of  its  cone,  like  nearly  all  volcanic  peaks,  separating 
into  two  as  it  is  approached  or  circled.  Most  of  its 
bare  bulk  is  visible,  rising  like  an'  irregular  pyramid 
at  the  end  of  the  long  valley-vista, — a  grand  object 
far  and  near,  whether  in  its  customary  suit  of  gray 
or  flashing  in  the  splendor  of  its  evening  robe ;  con- 
tinually shifting  its  color  and  form  as  it  is  seen  close 
or  far,  on  this  side  or  that;  opening  its  rocky  breast 
at  last  to  nature's  softening  touch  of  spring  and 
brook  and  tree,  and  drawing  up  about  its  awful  flanks 
some  of  the  verdurous  beauty  of  the  valley.     One  of 


202 


CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 


the  best  views  of  this  mountain,  on  its  southerly  side, 
is    that   from    Calistosfa.    where    the    cars   leave    the 


Mount   St.  Helena. 


tourist  at  night,  and  where  he  takes  a  coach  for  the 
Geysers.  Calistoga  is  at  the  head  of  Napa  Valley 
and  the  mountains  here  inclose  a  small  circular  plain 


THE    GEYSERS.  203 


studded  with  large  oaks,  and  charged  with  thermal 
springs  that  send  up  little  puffs  of  vapor  filling  the 
air  with  mineral  smells.  The  thriving  and  pretty 
town  found  here  grew  about  the  hotels  and  cottages 
first  erected  to  accommodate  visitors  to  these  springs. 
It  owes  its  existence  to  the  enterprise  of  one  man, 
Samuel  Brannan,  who  took  the  little  valley  a  solitude 
and  has  peopled  it  with  a  prosperous  community  of 
farmers  and  traders.  His  expenditures  for  improve- 
ments here  were  very  large,  and  include  such  objects 
as  vineyards,  wine  and  brandy  vaults,  mulberry  plan- 
tations for  silk-culture,  etc.  He  was  also  a  prominent 
actor  in  the  railroad.  The  planting  of  ornamental 
trees  and  shrubs  about  the  springs  was  thought  a 
doubtful  experiment,  by  reason  of  the  alkali  and  heat 
the  springs  diffuse  through  the  soil.  But  the  plantings 
throve  slowly,  and  Calistoga  is  growing  under  the 
shadow  of  its  grand  mountain,  which  the  plain  mim- 
ics by  a  small  isolated  cone  (Mount  Lincoln)  that 
rises  from  its  centre.  Soda  and  sulphur  are  the 
principal  mineral  constituents  of   the   thermal  waters, 


204  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

whose  heat  rises  to  the  boiling  point.  In  the  hills 
near  by  are  the  remains  of  a  petrified  forest,  the 
stony  trunks  of  oak  being  quite  numerous.  When 
growing  they  were  evidently  buried  by  an  earth- 
quake shock,  exposed  to  a  watery  solution  of  volcanic 
matter,  which  silicified  them,  and  subsequently  ele- 
vated again,  and  partly  uncovered  by  the  washing 
away  of  the  enveloping  earth.  Mount  St.  Helena  was 
once  the  centre  of  volcanic  disturbance  in  this  region, 
and  threw  its  ashes  and  lava  over  a  good  part  of 
the  surrounding  country.  The  hot  springs  at  many 
points  in  the  valley  and  hills,  the  pumice  and  obsid- 
ian scattered  widely  over  the  surface,  the  masses  of 
volcanic  rock  observable,  all  indicate  a  time  when 
this  was  a  volcanic  centre.  And  these  indications 
extend  northward  at  least  as  far  as  Clear  Lake,  some 
forty  miles  distant,  where  deposits  of  sulphur  and  a 
lake  richly  charged  with  borax  are  found.  The  earth- 
quakes still  felt  occasionally  through  this  region  are 
not  alarmingly  severe.  In  December,  1859,  a  tre- 
mendous explosion  was  heard  at  Mount  St.    Helena, 


THE    GEYSERS.  205 

which  shook  the  earth;  but  this  the  state  geologist, 
Prof.  J.  D.  Whitney,  thinks  may  have  been  caused 
by  heavy  masses  of  rock  in  some  of  the  subterranean 
cavities  known  to  exist  in  these  volcanic  regions. 
During  the  winter  a  new  hot  spring  burst  out  of  the 
eastern  side  of  Mount  Lincoln,  scarcely  more  than 
fifty  feet  above  the  valley-level,  and  has  continued  to 
puff  away  ever  since.  This  circumstance  excited  less 
comment  in  the  vicinity  than  the  increased  number 
of  trout  in  the  mountain-streams  and  the  abundance 
of  wild  pigeons.  Your  true  Californian  is  never 
much  surprised  or  dismayed  at  anything.  When  the 
terrible  earthquake  at  Inyo,  in  the  southeastern  cor- 
ner of  the  State,  was  at  its  height,  the  survivors  of 
the  first  shock  amused  themselves  by  inventing  names 
for  the  various  phenomena,  the  heaviest  of  the  artil- 
lery-like discharges  from  the  vicinity  of  Mount  Whit- 
ney being  called  "  the  hundred-pound  Parrott  of  the 
Sierra,"  while  as  the  ground  began  to  heave  and 
shake  again,  the  bold  fellows  would  cry  out,  "  There 
she  goes  !     Brace  yourselves  !  " 


206  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

Mount  St.  Helena  was  ascended  in  1841  by  a 
Russian  naturalist,  Wasnossensky,  who  named  it  in 
honor  of  his  empress,  and  left  on  the  summit  a 
copper  plate,  inscribed  with  the  names  of  himself 
and  his  companion.  This  plate  is  now  preserved  in 
the  museum  of  the  California  Geological  Survey. 
The  Russians  did  a  good  deal  of  exploring  in  Cali- 
fornia in  early  days,  not  alone  for  scientific  purposes, 
but  with  some  eye  to  commercial  and  political  aggran- 
dizement. They  left  their  name  at  several  points  in 
the  northern  interior,  including  the  Russian  River 
and  the  lovely  valley  it  waters,  which  opens  north  of 
Sonoma  Valley  and  lies  across  the  ridge  to  the  north- 
west of  Napa  Valley.  The  tourist  who  is  acquainted 
with  these  facts  regards  the  country  on  the  route  to 
the  Geysers  with  more  interest. 

Early  in  the  morning  a  stage  leaves  Calistoga  for 
the  Geysers,  distant  twenty-eight  miles.  This  "  stage  " 
is  simply  a  very  strong  open  spring  wagon,  seating 
nine  to  twelve  persons.  Last  year  it  was  not  un- 
common for  half  a  dozen  such  wagons  to  make    the 


THE    GEYSERS.  207 

trip  daily.  The  road  soon  quits  the  valley,  ascends  a 
range  of  wooded  hills  to  the  northward,  crosses  it  at 
a  height  of  three  or  four  hundred  feet  above  the  val- 
ley, and  seven  hundred  and  fifty  above  the  sea,  and 
descends  to  the  northwest  into  Knight's  Valley  which 
is  drained  into  Russian  River.  There  are  numerous 
creeks  in  this  region,  leading  to  many  picturesque 
side  valleys  heading  in  the  hills.  Broad  natural  mead- 
ows are  dotted  with  groves  of  oak,  and  in  the  spring 
months  the  green  levels  and  slopes  are  spangled  with 
flowers,  including  the  blue  lupin,  larkspur,  purple 
primrose,  yellow  poppy,  and  a  profusion  of  buttercups 
and  daisies.  The  streams  run  tinkling  over  gravelly 
beds,  larks  and  linnets  sing  joyously,  flocks  of  black- 
birds chatter  musically  as  they  whirl  in  gusty  flights 
together,  and  the  clear  air  exhilarates  like  champagne. 
Mount  St.  Helena  is  kept  to  the  right,  revealing  its 
sculpture  boldly  as  it  is  neared,  but  never  losing  its 
magic  tints.  The  ridges  dividing  a  series  of  inter- 
vales are  thickly  wooded  with  oak  and  pine,  with 
here  and  there  a  redwood  astray,  a  madron  a  or  man- 


208  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

zanita,  whose  brown  or  red  bark  and  waxen  leaves 
make  them  very  striking  objects.  If  it  is  spring, 
big  clumps  of  buckeye  will  thrust  out  their  bristling 
spears  of  scented  bloom.  Where  the  soil  is  bare,  it  is 
red,  except  in  the  valleys,  where  it  is  black  or  brown, 
while  the  rocks  are  stained  with  lichens.  Thus  there 
is  a  constant  feast  of  color,  —  gold  and  purple  pre- 
dominating in  summer,  emerald  and  red  and  violet  in 
the  spring,  but  always  an  undertone  of  pearly  gray, 
which  St.  Helena's  cone  seems  to  give  out  as  the 
key  for  the  whole  beautiful  composition. 

As  the  Geyser  mountains  are  neared,  the  valleys 
narrow  to  ribbons,  run  into  hills,  and  end  in  a  dense 
forest  glade,  where  lighter  wagons  are  taken  for  the 
ascent.  From  this  point  teams  are  not  allowed  to 
travel  in  opposite  directions  ;  the  road  is  too  narrow 
and  dangerous  to  pass.  Hence  the  teams  going  out 
and  in  meet  in  this  glade,  composed  of  lofty  firs  in 
great  part,  and  having  the  hushed  air  and  soft  car- 
pet of  a  true  forest.  The  summit  of  the  first  range 
of   hills    is    about    one    thousand   seven    hundred  feet 


THE    GEYSERS.  2  09 

above  the  station  at  its  foot,  or  nearly  two  thousand 
three  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  and  the  ascent  is 
made  in  a  distance  of  about  four  miles.  These  hills 
form  the  lower  slope  of  Geyser  Peak,  which  is  three 
thousand  four  hundred  and  seventy-one  feet  high,  and 
forms  one  of  the  triangulating  stations  of  the  United 
States  Coast  Survey,  being  plainly  visible  from  the 
ocean  and  San  Francisco.  It  is  a  conical  peak,  like 
all  the  dominating  points  of  this  range,  and  com- 
mands a  magnificent  view.  The  stage-road  ascends 
its  flanks  very  deviously,  passing  alternately  through 
dense  thickets  of  underbrush  or  bits  of  coniferous 
woods  ;  then  across  deep  gulches,  watered  with  clear 
trout  streams  ;  then  emerging  into  open  spaces,  and 
winding  along  the  edge  of  a  precipitous  descent, 
opening  far  vistas  of  colossal  scenery,  rank  on  rank 
of  diminishing  hills  thrusting  up  sharp  tops  of  fir  or 
pine,  until  these  are  lost  in  the  blue  gulf  nearly  two 
thousand  feet  below.  Everywhere,  except  in  the  for- 
est belts  and  thickets  of  brush,  the  more  or  less 
rounding  hills  of   the  Coast  Range  bear  a    luxuriant 

14 


2IO  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

growth  of  wild  oats.     The   clump  or   masses  of   tree 

verdure  relieved    against  these  golden    slopes  present 

an    indescribably    brilliant   effect,  which    is    enhanced 

* 
by  the  dark  blue  of  the  chasms  below  and  the  purple 

or  violet  of  the  remote  ranges  beyond. 

Resting  the  sweating  horses  for  a  few  minutes  on 
one  of  these  wild  harvest  spaces,  and  looking  about, 
the  passengers  have  a  view  never  to  be  forgotten. 
Across  a  gulf  to  the  east  rises  the  commanding  bulk 
of  Mount  St.  Helena.  To  the  west  and  south  de- 
scend the  hills  we  have  been  climbing,  and  others 
beyond  them,  leading  the  eye  to  Russian  River  Val- 
ley, where  the  stream  makes  a  sharp  turn  and  can 
be  traced  on  its  gleaming  course  for  many  miles. 
The  receding  hills,  with  their  shaggy  coating  of  for- 
est and  chemisal,  are  softened  with  a  violet  haze. 
The  valley  shimmers  in  its  heat,  and  through  a  cleft 
in  the  far  blue  wall  of  the  outer  Coast  Range  the 
sunny  Pacific  is  seen  melting  into  heaven.  The  air 
is  wonderfully  clear  and  luminous,  lending  the  charm 
of  its  tints  to  the  magnificent  landscape,  without  ob- 


THE    GEYSERS.  211 

scuring  it,  so  that  we  seem  to  be  looking  at  it, 
almost  dizzily,  through  a  transparent  medium  which 
only  reflects  an  image.  Such  a  sight  intoxicates 
the  senses  almost  to  pain.  The  world  never  ap- 
peared so  lovely,  nor  our  own  nature  so  capacious 
and  receptive.  It  is  with  a  sigh  of  regret  that  we 
feel  the  wagon  start  and  dash  onward  ;  but  the  ex- 
treme beauty  of  the  woods  is  another  delight.  The 
madrona  has  become  a  tree,  and  its  smooth  mahog- 
any limbs  and  large  waxen  leaves  are  rich  beyond 
any  other  tree  in  the  forest.  Then  the  laurel  and 
the  bay,  with  their  perennial  green,  the  maple  and 
the  alder  in  moist  places,  and  the  blooming  buckeye, 
fill  up  the  spaces  between  the  leather-colored  col- 
umns of  redwood  and  cedar,  and  the  straight  shafts 
of  pine  and  fir,  towering  above  all.  As  the  road 
winds  higher  towards  Geyser  Peak,  it  leaves  the 
forest  and  passes  through  a  dense  thicket  of  chem- 
isal  shrubbery,  oak,  laurels,  small  bays,  and  ceano- 
thus.  The  last,  called  California  lilac,  is  covered  till 
late  in  the    spring  with    powdery  blossoms  that   give 


2  1 2  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

forth  honeyed  odors.  Masses  of  stained  and  black- 
ened rocks,  serpentine,  sandstone,  and  trap,  rise  here 
and  there,  giving  the  nearing  summit  a  desolate 
look,  which  is  increased  by  the  few  contorted  pines 
that  suck  a  feeble  life  from  the  crevices  where  they 
grow.  A  narrow  ridge,  called  the  Hog's  Back,  — 
just  wide  enough  for  the  wagon,  —  connects  two 
spurs  of  the  range  at  this  point,  separating  Sulphur 
and  Pluton  creeks.  It  is  the  parapet  of  a  wall 
whose  sides  slope  at  a  sharp  angle  a  thousand  feet, 
and  riding  over  it  at  a  high  speed  one  looks  into 
a  chasm  on  either  hand,  catches  breath,  and  hopes 
the  harness  and  wheels  may  be  strong.  The  Hog's 
Back,  however,  forms  part  of  the  old  road  which  is 
not  traveled  now,  except  by  daring  tourists  who  in- 
sist upon  going  back  by  that  route  especially  to  en- 
joy a  sensation.  The  new  road  keeps  more  to  the 
flank  of  the  ridge,  and  curves  about  precipices  in- 
stead of  crossing  them.  Both  roads  approach  within 
two  or  three  hundred  feet  of  the  summit  of  Geyser 
Peak,    and    then    plunge    suddenly   down    its    farther 


THE    GEYSERS.  213 

and  steeper  flank  to  the  canon  of  Phi  ton  River, 
on  whose  right  bank  are  the  Geysers.  The  greatest 
elevation  either  road  attains  is  about  three  thousand 
two  hundred  feet.  As  the  Geyser  Hotel  is  one  thou- 
sand six  hundred  and  ninety-two  feet  above  the  sea, 
the  descent  is  about  one  thousand  five  hundred  feet. 
This  is  made  on  the  old  road  in  a  distance  of  two 
miles.  Foss,  the  proprietor  of  the  road  and  stage 
line,  and  one  of  the  celebrated  "  whips "  of  Califor- 
nia, used  to  call  this  steep  descent  "  the  drop,"  and 
as  he  began  it,  would  tell  the  passengers  to  look  at 
their  watches  and  hold  on  to  their  seats  and  hats. 
He  would  then  crack  his  whip,  and  the  horses  — 
sometimes  six  to  a  wagon  — would  start  at  a  keen 
run  and  make  the  distance  in  nine  and  a  half  min- 
utes. There  are  thirty-five  sharp  turns  in  "  the 
drop,"  and  the  road,  just  wide  enough  for  the  team, 
frequently  hugs  the  edge  of  steep,  rocky  precipices, 
whose  sides  and  bottoms  made  a  concavity  of  brist- 
ling fir-tops,  hiding  the  stream  whose  murmur  comes 
faintly  up.     The  new  road  makes  the  descent  to  the 


214  CALIFOKNIAN  PICTURES. 

canon  of  Pluton  Creek,  or  river,  by  a  longer  route, 
with  more  curves,  in  a  lighter  grade ;  but  is  equally 
narrow,  and  follows  closely,  for  long  distances,  the 
steep  precipices  that  line  the  creek.  Over  this,  too 
the  teams  are  driven  at  a  rate  of  speed  frightful  to 
timid  persons  unaccustomed  to  mountain  stage-travel 
in  California.  But  dangerous  as  these  roads  seem, 
not  a  single  accident  has  occurred  on  them,  for  the 
wagons  are  kept  very  strong,  the  horses  are  of  the 
best  roadster  stock,  and  the  drivers  masters  of  their 
trade.  The  great  speed  made,  instead  of  increasing 
the  danger,  lessens  it.  Yet  there  are  persons  in  al- 
most every  wagonful  of  passengers  who  pale  and 
shrink  as  the  vehicle  dashes  wildly  down,  and  as 
they  see  below  them,  under  the  very  wheels,  as  it 
were,  the  yawning  chasms  that  seem  to  threaten 
death.  Women  sometimes  sink  into  the  bottom  of 
the  wagon,  and  hide  from  their  eyes  the  spectacle  so 
dreadful  to  them,  that  is  so  sublime  to  cooler  heads 
and  calmer  nerves.  When  the  wagon  reaches  the 
hotel,  however,  all  its   tenants   have  a  half  wild  look, 


THE    GEYSERS.  215 

as  if  they  had  just  come  down  in  a  balloon  and 
were  thankful  it  had  "  lit."  Nothing  can  be  more 
wildly  romantic  than  the  scenery  of  the  Pluton 
canon.  On  one  side  rises  a  steep  mountain,  rock- 
ribbed  and  clad  with  stately  firs,  mixed  with  ever- 
green oaks,  bay  trees,  and  madronas;  on  the  other 
side  sinks  a  precipice  into  a  deep  gorge,  crowded 
with  a  richer  variety  of  foliage,  through  which  are 
caught  glimpses  of  a  stream  making  foamy  leaps  over 
rocky  rapids,  or  expanding  into  still  pools,  in  whose 
depths  fishes  can  be  seen  like  images  fixed  in  glass. 
Here  a  small  brook  comes  tumbling  down  the  mount- 
ain, creaming  a  mass  of  black  rock  a  hundred  feet 
high,  which  is  margined  with  ferns,  splotched  with 
lichens,  and  shadowed  by  arching  trees,  out  of  which 
the  cascade  seems  to  leap.  There,  on  the  right,  far 
across  the  canon,  other  mountains  rise,  sparsely  tim- 
bered with  oak,  yellow  or  green  with  wild  oats, 
scarred  with  deep  red  gulches  from  summit  to  base, 
and  —  yes,  actually  smoking  like  a  volcano  from  many 
an   ashen    heap  or  hollow.     The   air  is  charged  with 


2l6  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

sulphurous  smells,  and  as  the  sweating  horses  swing 
rapidly  around  the  last  curve  of  the  road,  by  the  last 
dizzy  brink,  we  realize  that  there  are  the  Geysers. 

The  Geyser  Hotel  is  a  lightly  constructed  frame- 
house,  L-shaped,  with  double  piazzas  on  all  sides. 
It  stands  amid  a  grove  of  tall  firs  and  massive  ever- 
green oaks,  on  a  narrow  bench  about  one  hun- 
dred feet  above  Pluton  Creek,  the  mountains  ris- 
ing straight  behind  it.  This  creek  is  a  tributary  of 
Russian  River.  It  heads  up  towards  Mount  St.  Hel- 
ena, and  until  it  comes  within  the  influence  of  the 
Geysers  is  a  charming  trout  stream.  Its  banks  and 
bed  are  extremely  rocky.  Huge  boulders  of  granite 
and  sandstone  choke  its  course,  and  black  volcanic 
masses  rise  in  frowning  cliffs  by  its  side,  sometimes 
softened  with  a  drapery  of  vines,  and  bearing  trees  on 
their  creviced  tops.  Great  blocks  of  conglomerate, 
apparently  formed  in  situ  by  the  mineral  constitu- 
ents of  the  waters  percolating  through  the  diluvium, 
are  also  seen  obstructing  the  creek.  Occasionally  it 
has   cut   through  a  bed  of    this    conglomerate,  which 


THE    GEYSERS.  217 

forms  its  banks.  For  all  this  ruggedness  the  creek 
is  very  picturesque,  and  has  many  spots  of  gentle 
beauty  where  the  sun  beams  athwart  quiet  pools, 
and  maples  and  pepper  trees  mix  their  gentle  grace 
with  the  sombre  foliage  of  fir  and  bay  and  ever- 
green oak.  Pleasant  paths  wind  along  its  banks  un- 
der archways  of  green,  where  ferns  and  flowers  thrive 
and  coax  the  hand  to  pluck.  Between  the  rocks 
round  plats  of  tuft-grass  make  soft  stepping-places. 
The  quail  is  heard  calling  his  mate  in  the  thicket, 
and  the  robin  chants  his  song  at  morn  and  eve  in 
the  tree-tops. 

The  best  time  to  visit  the  Geysers  is  early  in  the 
morning,  before  the  sun  has  risen  above  the  mount- 
ain tops  and  drank  up  the  vapors.  From  the  red 
riven  side  facing  the  hotel,  columns  and  clouds  of 
steam  may  then  be  seen  rising  to  a  height  of  two 
hundred  feet  or  more,  obscuring  the  landscape  like  a 
fog  just  rolling  in  from  the  sea.  The  same  phenom- 
enon is  visible,  but  in  a  less  degree,  towards  night. 
It  is    pleasanter  to  take  a  good   rest  at  night,  to  en- 


2l8  CALIF0RN1AN  PICTURES. 

joy  the  concert  of  the  birds  in  the  grove  about  the 
house,  listen  to  the  soughing  of  the  firs,  the  soft  rear 
of  the  creek,  and  the  distant  puffings  and  gurgita- 
tions of  the  Geysers  ;  and  then  from  your  bedroom 
opening  upon  a  piazza,  gaze  out,  as  you  lie  with 
open  door  and  window,  in  that  balmy  climate,  at  the 
keen  stars  beaming  with  their  eternal  quiet  over  that 
strange  scene.  Up  before  the  sun,  don  an  old  suit, 
swallow  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  join  the  laughing  party 
of  tourists  gathered  about  the  guide  on  the  fenced 
space  before  the  house.  Every  one  takes  a  "  geyser 
pony,"  —  that  is,  a  stout  stick  to  help  him  or  her 
over  the  rocks  and  springs,  —  and  then  all  start  down 
the  trail,  Indian  file,  to  Pluton  Creek.  Before  reach- 
ing it,  the  guide,  who  perhaps  is  the  jolly  landlord 
himself,  points  out  a  chalybeate  spring  of  fine  tonic 
properties,  whose  waters  his  guests  imbibe,  mixed 
with  soda-water.  The  banks  are  charged  with  iron 
salts  for  a  great  distance  up  and  down,  and  their 
solutions  have  given  the  earth  its  red  tinge,  and 
hardened    the   gravel-beds    into    a   semi-metallic  mass. 


THE    GEYSERS.  219 

In  curious  contrast,  at  the  crossing  to  Geyser  Canon, 
is  the  whey-like  tint  of  the  water  in  the  creek,  which 
for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more  is  affected  by  the 
sulphur  discharges,  some  of  which  bubble  up  through 
the  very  bed  of  the  creek  itself.  Thermal  springs  of 
various  sorts  are  numerous  along  the  creek,  especially 
on  its  right  bank,  for  several  miles ;  but  the  most 
remarkable  are  those  facing  the  hotel.  The  prevail- 
ing rocks  are  metamorphic  sandstone,  silicious  slates, 
and  serpentine.  Their  stratification  is  boldly  exposed, 
and  dips  at  a  sharp  angle  to  the  line  of  the  creek. 
Through  the  lines  of  fracture  or  cleavage,  from  the 
water's  edge  to  a  height  of  fifty  or  a  hundred  feet  up 
the  slope  opposite,  where  the  creek  is  crossed  by  a 
rustic  bridge,  numerous  springs  and  steam  jets  escape, 
coloring  the  face  of  the  slacking  rocks  vividly  with 
the  yellow,  red,  and  white  salts  of  sulphur,  iron,  lime, 
and  magnesia  that  they  deposit.  The  springs  are  of 
various  temperatures,  some  of  them  exceeding  2000. 
One  forms  quite  a  large  stream,  and  is  led  by  troughs 
into  a  row  of  small  shanties,  where  its  steam  is  used 


2  20  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

for  bathing,  the  bather  jumping  immediately  after 
into  a  rocky  basin  of  the  creek  two  or  three  feet  off, 
the  waters  of  which  are  almost  shockingly  cool. 
Where  no  heated  waters  flow  from  the  rock,  the 
steam  issues  under  a  high  pressure,  intensely  hot, 
and  shrieking  or  hissing.  From  one  hole,  a  foot  or 
two  wide,  at  the  base  of  the  bank,  it  escapes  with  a 
noise  like  that  of  a  high-pressure  steamboat  "  blow- 
ing off;"  and  this  vent  is  appropriately  called  the 
Steamboat  Geyser.  For  a  hundred  rods  here  the 
rocks  are  hot  under  the  feet,  and  as  they  are  also 
slippery  with  moist  mineral  salts,  and  puffing  from 
numerous  small  vents,  the  spectacle  they  present  is 
in  sharp  contrast  to  the  sylvan  beauty  of  the  creek. 
Yet  grasses  grow  in  these  heated  rocks,  out  of  the 
very  salts,  and  one  or  two  thermal  plants  dare  to 
blossom  at  the  edge  and  in  the  very  breath  of  the 
hottest  springs,  whose  waters  are  sometimes  greened 
with  low  forms  of  microscopic  plant-life,  which  also 
slime  the  rock  where  they  overflow. 

Following  down  the  right    bank  of  the  Pluton  for 


THE    GEYSERS.  22  1 

a  short  distance,  the  trail  turns  to  the  right  and  en- 
ters a  gorge  densly  embowered  by  shrubs  at  its 
mouth,  but  soon  opening  into  the  desolate  regions 
of  the  Devil's  Canon.  The  nomenclature,  like  the 
scenery  from  this  point,  is  all  infernal,  suggestive  of 
Dante  and  his  awful  journey,  except  that  the  tourist 
hither  seems  to  have  reversed  the  course  that  Dante 
took,  approaching  Pluto's  sphere  from  the  region  of 
Elysian  beauty,  instead  of  passing  through  that  to 
these.  Much  of  the  nomenclature  fastened  to  various 
points  in  the  canon  is  arbitrary  and  impertinent 
enough,  and  one  wishes  it  were  possible  to  see  the 
place  dissociated  from  all  names  that  suggest  super- 
stition and  cruelty.  Climbing  up  a  ledge  that  crosses 
the  canon,  we  suddenly  gain  a  view  of  the  principal 
Geysers.  The  gorge  for  half  a  mile  up  the  mount- 
ain lies  before  us,  a  steep  ascent,  filled  with  steam 
and  noise,  its  bare  sides  painted  many  colors,  its  bed 
obstructed  with  boulders,  around  and  under  which 
turbid  waters  gurgle  and  smoke ;  at  the  very  head  of 
all  the  apparent  combustion  and  explosion  an  abrupt 


22  2  CALIFORNIA^  PICTURES. 

and  tall  cliff  of    red    rock,  bearing  a  flag-staff.     The 
ascent  of  this  gorge  is  toilsome  but  exciting. 

Before  the  crusts  of  salt  and  sulphur  and  decom- 
posed rock  had  been  disturbed,  and  a  trail  marked 
out  where  the  footing  was  known  to  be  solid,  the 
ascent  may  have  been  dangerous.  It  is  certainly  not 
so  now,  although  to  many  persons  very  unpleasant. 
The  hot  ground  under  the  feet;  the  subterranean 
rumblings ;  the  throbs  and  thuds  near  some  of  the 
largest  and  most  energetic  steam  vents ;  the  warm, 
moist  atmosphere,  filled  with  ascidulous  vapors,  often 
charged  with  sulphuretted  hydrogen ;  the  screaming, 
roaring,  hissing,  gurgling,  and  bubbling  of  the  va- 
rious springs,  —  all  contribute  to  make  the  scene  as 
repellant  to  some  as  it  is  grand  and  exciting  to 
others.  Where  the  vapors  are  thickest,  and  the  noises 
loudest,  the  guide  says,  "  This  is  the  Devil's  Labora- 
tory ;  "  and  so  his  Satanic  Majesty  gets  the  credit  all 
the  way  for  some  of  the  most  curious  and  instructive 
of  the  inner  workings  of  that  kindly  power  whose 
most  terrible  forces  are  instruments  of  good  —  mani- 


THE    GEYSERS.  223 

festations  of  laws  that  operate  through  all  time  and 
space  with  impartial  grandeur,  without  vindictiveness 
or  hate. 

There  are  no  spouting  fountains  in  the  canon,  but 
numerous  bubbling  springs,  that  sink  and  rise  with 
spasmodic  action.  These  number  a  hundred  or  two, 
and  are  of  varying  temperature  and  constituents.  A 
few  are  quite  cold,  closely  adjoining  hot  springs, 
while  others  have  a  temperature  of  ioo°  to  2070. 
Some  appear  to  be  composed  of  alum  and  iron,  others 
of  sulphur  and  magnesia,  while  a  few  are  strongly 
acidulous.  Here  the  water  is  pale  yellow,  like  that 
of  ordinary  white-sulphur  springs  ;  there  it  is  black 
as  ink.  The  mingling  of  these  different  currents, 
with  the  aid  of  frequent  steam  injections,  intensifies 
the  chemical  action,  the  sputter  and  fuming,  that  are 
incessantly  going  on.  These  phenomena  are  not  con- 
fined to  the  narrow  bed  of  the  gorge,  but  extend  for 
a  hundred  or  two  feet  up  its  sides,  which  slope  at  a 
pretty  steep  angle.  These  slopes  are  soft  masses  of 
rock    decomposed    or   slackened    by  chemical    action, 


224  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

and  colored  brilliantly  with  crystallized  sulphur,  and 
sulphates  of  iron,  alum,  lime,  and  magnesia,  depos- 
ited from  the  springs  and  jets  of  steam,  which  are 
highly  charged  with  them.  As  the  rocks  decompose 
and  leach  under  the  chemical  action  to  which  they 
are  subjected,  the  soft  silicious  mass  remaining,  of  a 
putty-like  consistence,  mixes  with  these  salts.  Some 
of  the  heaps  thus  formed  assume  conical  shapes. 
They  have  an  apparently  firm  crust,  but  are  really 
treacherous  stepping-places.  One  of  the  most  remark- 
able steam  vents  in  the  canon  is  in  the  top  of  such  a 
pile,  fifty  feet  up  the  steep  slope.  It  blows  like  the 
escape-pipe  of  a  large  engine.  The  beautiful  masses 
of  crystallized  sulphur  which  form  about  it,  as  about 
the  innumerable  small  fumaroles  that  occur  along 
both  banks,  tempt  one  to  dare  to  climb,  and  face  the 
hot  steam.  The  mass  shakes  beneath  the  tread,  and 
is  probably  soft  to  a  great  depth.  Wherever  in  these 
soft  heaps  a  stick  is  thrust  in,  the  escaping  warm  air 
soon  deposits  various  salts.  Of  course  a  walk  over 
such    material    is  ruinous    to    boot   and   shoe   leather, 


THE    GEYSERS.  225 

while  the  splash  of  acid  waters  often  injures  the  cloth- 
ing. Everybody  stops  to  gather  specimens  of  the 
various  salts  and  rocks.  The  guide  presents  to  be 
tasted  pure  Epsom-salts  (sulphate  of  magnesia),  and 
salts  of  iron  and  alum,  of  soda  and  ammonia.  Few 
care  to  taste  the  waters,  however,  which  rival  in  their 
chemical  and  sanitary  qualities  all  the  springs  of  all 
the  German  spas  together.  Perhaps  the  most  re- 
markable of  the  Geyser  springs  is  that  called,  happily 
enough,  the  Witches'  Caldron.  This  is  a  black,  cav- 
ernous opening  in  the  solid  rock,  about  seven  feet 
across,  and  of  unknown  depth,  filled  with  a  thick 
inky  liquid,  boiling  hot,  that  tumbles  and  roars  under 
the  pressure  of  escaping  steam,  emitting  a  smell  like 
that  of  bilge-water,  and  seems  to  proceed  from  some 
Plutonic  reservoir.  One  irresistibly  thinks  of  the 
hell-broth  in  "  Macbeth,"  so  "  thick  and  slab,"  and 
repeats  the  words  of  the  weird  sisters :  — 

"Double,  double  toil  and  trouble 
Fire  burn  and  caldron  bubble." 

A  clever   photographer,  Mr.  Muybridge,  conceived 

'5 


226  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

the  idea  of  grouping  three  lady  visitors  about  this 
caldron,  with  hands  linked,  and  alpenstocks  held 
like  magic  wands,  in  which  position  he  photo- 
graphed them  amid  the  vaporous  scene  with  telling 
effect.  Another  notable  spot  is  the  Devil's  Grist- 
mill, where  a  large  column  of  steam  escapes  from  a 
hole  in  the  rock  with  so  much  force  that  stones  and 
sticks  laid  at  the  aperture  are  blown  away  like  bits 
of  paper.  The  internal  noises  at  this  vent  truly  re- 
semble the  working  of  a  grist-mill  Milton's  hero  is 
sponsor  for  another  spring  called  the  Devil's  Ink- 
stand, notable  for  its  black  water,  specimens  of  which 
are  taken  off  in  small  vials,  and  used  at  the  hotel 
to  inscribe  the  names  of  guests  on  the  register. 
Dr.  James  Blake,  who  has  read  before  the  California 
Academy  of  Sciences  several  papers  giving  the  re- 
sults of  his  observations  on  the  Geysers,  says  that 
the  water  of  the  Devil's  Inkstand  contains  nine  per 
cent,  of  solid  matter  in  the  form  of  soluble  salts  and 
sediment,  the  former  being  in  the  proportion  of  2.7 
per   cent,    the    remaining    ingredients    being   in    the 


THE    GEYSERS.  22  J 

form  of  a  dark  black  sediment.  The  matter  has  a 
thoroughly  acid  reaction,  which  it  owes  to  the  pres- 
ence of  free  sulphuric  acid.  It  would  seem  that  a 
large  portion  of  the  soluble  matter  is  composed  of 
ammoniacal  salts,  probably  the  sulphate  of  ammonia. 
This  salt,  which  rarely  occurs  in  the  natural  state, 
has  been  found  by  Mr.  Durand,  another  academi- 
cian, precipitated  in  large  quantities  from  the  vapor- 
ous exhalations  at  the  Geysers.  Dr.  Blake's  analy- 
sis of  the  water  of  the  Devil's  Inkstand  shows  that 
about  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  saline  ingredients  con- 
sists of  volatile  salts,  the  remainder  beino'  salts  of 
magnesia,  lime,  alumina,  and  iron.  The  presence  of 
so  large  a  quantity  of  ammoniacal  salts  in  the  water 
of  a  mineral  spring  is  quite  exceptional.  These  salts 
have  lono-  been  recognized  as  occurring  in  the  fuma- 
roles,  in  the  neighborhood  of  volcanoes,  and  their 
origin,  particularly  in  such  large  quantities  as  at 
these  Geysers,  opens  up  some  very  interesting  ques- 
tions as  to  the  nature  of  the  strata  from  which  so 
much    nitrogenous  matter  can    be  derived.     The  sed- 


228  CAL1F0RNTAN  PICTURES. 

iment  in  the  above  water,  in  the  proportion  of  more 
than  an  ounce  to  a  quart,  is  probably  some  compound 
of  iron  and  sulphur.  Professor  Whitney  of  the  Geo- 
logical Survey  accounts  for  the  black  color  and  vil- 
lainous smell  of  the  water  in  the  Witches'  Caldron 
as  follows  :  the  iron  held  in  solution  comes  in  con- 
tact with  water  holding  sulphuretted  hydrogen,  when 
an  ink-black  precipitate  of  iron  takes  place. 

Wherever  one  treads,  going  up  the  Devil's  Canon, 
the  step  slips  or  crunches  on  some  of  the  chemical 
products  of  these  springs.  It  is  a  relief  after  a  while 
to  emerge  from  the  heated  vapors  and  sulphurous 
smells,  and  standing  on  the  flag-staff  cliff  (called  the 
Devil's  Pulpit,  of  course),  look  down  on  the  canon 
and  across  to  the  hotel.  Phenomena  of  the  same 
sort,  on  a  smaller  scale,  however,  are  visible  on  the 
higher  slopes,  and  in  the  lesser  gulches,  up  and 
down  the  creek.  One  place,  called  the  Crater,  a 
circular  cavity  of  considerable  depth,  with  a  level, 
hollow-sounding  floor,  is  evidently  the  site  of  ex- 
hausted   thermal    action,  where  the  mineral    constitu- 


THE    GEYSERS.  229 

ents  in  the  rock  had  all  been  slacked  out,  and  the 
ground  had  sunk  in ;  though  about  the  lips  of  this 
*'  crater "  one  or  two  vigorous  steam  vents  are  still 
in  operation,  and  sulphur  continues  to  be  deposited 
in  fine  needle-crystals.  Half  a  mile  below  Geyser 
Canon  are  a  large  sulphur  heap,  incrustations,  and 
evidences  of  former  activity,  some  heat  still  remain- 
ing in  places.  A  ravine  near  by  contains  a  clear 
hot  spring,  which  was  formerly  built  over  with  stones 
and  sticks  by  the  Indians,  and  the  steam  used  as 
a  sanitary  agent.  It  is  still  known  as  the  Indian 
Spring.  Just  without  the  rude  wall  inclosing  it,  runs 
a  cold  spring  of  excellent  drinking  water.  Four  miles 
up  the  Pluton  Creek  occur  what  are  called  the  "  Lit- 
tle Geysers,"  similar  in  character  to  the  larger  ones, 
except  that  they  issue  from  a  gently  sloping  hill-side 
instead  of  a  deep  gorge.  The  rocks  and  the  chemical 
action  are  the  same. 

As  to  the  origin  of  the  phenomena  we  have  been 
describing,  it  may  be  said  that  there  are  two  theories, 
volcanic   and    chemical.     Professor  Whitney  says    (in 


230  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

his  "  Report  of  Progress,"  vol.  i.  p.  95)  that  there  will 
be  no  difficulty  in  understanding  them  when  we  con- 
sider that  they  are  displayed  along  a  line  of  former 
volcanic  activity,  and  where  even  now  the  igneous 
forces  are'  not  entirely  dormant.  "  The  dependence 
of  the  Geysers  for  their  activity,  in  part,  on  the  re- 
currence of  the  rainy  season,  indicates  clearly  that 
the  water,  percolating  clown  through  the  fissures  in 
the  rocks,  meets  with  a  mass  of  subterranean  lava 
not  yet  entirely  cooled  off,  and,  becoming  intensely 
heated,  under  pressure  finds  its  way  to  the  surface 
alons:  a  line  of  fissure  connecting  with  the  bottom 
of  Geyser  Canon ;  in  this  heated  condition  it  has  a 
powerful  action  on  the  rocks  and  the  metallic  sulphu- 
rets  which  they  contain,  especially  on  the  sulphuret 
of  iron  everywhere  so  abundantly  diffused  through 
the  formation,  and  so  dissolves  them  and  brings  them 
up  to  the  surface,  to  be  again  partly  redeposited  as 
the  solution  is  cooled  down  by  contact  with  the  air." 
Professor  Whitney  adds  that  phenomena  of  the  same 
kind  as  those  observed  at  the  Geysers,  and  sometimes 


THE    GEYSERS.  23  I 

even  on  a  larger  scale,  are  exhibited  all  through  the 
now  almost  extinct  volcanic  regions  of  California  and 
Nevada.  Even  on  Mount  Shasta  the  last  expiring 
efforts  of  this  once  mighty  volcano  may  be  traced 
in  the  solfatara  action  still  going  on  near  the  sum- 
mit, and  which  is  undoubtedly  due  to  the  melting 
snow  finding  its  way  clown  to  the  heated  lava,  or 
other  volcanic  materials  below,  in  the  interior  of  what 
was  once  the  crater,  from  and  around  which  a  mass 
of  erupted  matter  has  been  poured  forth  and  piled 
up  to  the  height  of  several  thousand  feet.  We  know, 
on  other  authority,  that  earthquakes  have  frequently 
been  experienced  at  the  Geysers,  accompanied  by  loud 
noise.  Two  smart  shocks  on  the  night  of  February 
20,  1863,  were  followed  by  the  bursting  forth  of  new 
openings  of  steam  and  boiling  waters.  Such  an  out- 
burst, on  one  occasion,  caused  a  gush  of  steam  up 
the  left  side  of  the  canon  so  hot  as  to  kill  all  the 
trees  and  shrubs  in  its  course. 

The  chemical    theory  asserts  that  all  the    phenom- 
ena are  ascribable  to  the  action    of  water  percolating 


232  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

through  mineral  deposits,  and  creating  heat,  expan- 
sion, and  explosion  by  simple  chemical  decomposi- 
tion, without  the  aid  of  a  heated  volcanic  mass.  The 
two  theories  may  be  harmonized,  for  the  mineral  mat- 
ter is  probably  of  volcanic  origin,  and  whether  it  is 
heated  before  the  water  acts  upon  it  is  not  very 
material. 

In  spite  of  the  hot  water,  the  steam  and  the  sa- 
line deposits,  vegetation  flourishes  far  down  the  slopes 
of  Geyser  Canon,  about  the  margins,  and  in  some 
of  the  very  waters.  The  evergreen  oak  thrives  al- 
most within  reach  of  the  exhalations,  and  maples  and 
alders  are  found  on  the  banks  of  the  creek  close  to 
some  of  the  steam  vents.  A  grass  called  Panicum 
thermale  grows  near  the  hot  springs.  Animal  life 
dares  to  invade,  the  scene,  for  dragon-flies  of  great 
beauty  may  often  be  observed,  while  birds  build  their 
nests  and  sing  in  the  adjacent  trees.  Dr.  Blake  found 
two  forms  of  plant-life  in  a  spring  having  a  temper- 
ature as  high  as  1980.  These  were  delicate  micro- 
scopic   confervae.     In  a  spring   having  a  temperature 


THE    GEYSERS.  233 

of  1 74°,  many  oscillariae  were  found,  which  by  the 
interlacement  of  their  delicate  fibres  formed  a  semi- 
gelatinous  mass.  In  a  spring  of  a  temperature  of 
1 340,  layers  of  filamentous  green  and  red  algae  were 
freely  formed  as  the  water  flowed  over  the  rocks. 
Unusual  masses  of  oscillariae  flourish  in  the  waters 
of  Pluton  Creek.  Their  presence  in  the  highly  min- 
eralized waters  of  a  spring  with  a  temperature  of  1 740 
shows  how  great  is  the  ranp-e  of  the  conditions  in 
which  these  forms  of  plant-life  can  be  developed. 

One  returns  to  the  hotel  after  a  morning  tramp 
through  Geyser  Canon  and  along  Pluton  Creek  with 
an  enormous  appetite,  and  is  glad  to  rest  for  a  few 
hours.  Afterward,  there  are  delightful  strolls  up  and 
down  the  creek,  and  good  trout-fishing  for  those  who 
will  9-0  far  enoup-h.  Deer  and  grizzly  bear  are  to  be 
had  for  the  hunting  in  the  mountains,  —  the  grizzly 
sometimes  without  hunting.  But  the  sportsman  had 
better  be  accompanied  by  some  one  familiar  with  the 
country,  unless  he  is  a  good  forester,  and  can  find  his 
way  without  a    path.     A    San    Francisco    lawyer  was 


234  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

lost  for  several  days  on  a  hunting  trip,  and  nearly 
starved  to  death  before  he  was  found.  It  was  a  rov- 
ing hunter,  of  the  true  Leatherstocking  sort,  named 
Elliot,  who  first,  of  white  men,  found  the  Geysers 
in  1847.  Coming  suddenly  to  the  edge  of  the  canon, 
he  was  amazed  at  what  he  beheld,  and  on  returning 
to  his  companions  told  them,  in  his  rough  way,  he 
had  found  the  mouth  of  the  infernal  regions.  Elliot 
fell  in  a  fight  with  a  tribe  of  Nevada  Indians,  not 
many  years  ago,  a  true  border-hero  to  the  last. 
The  mountain  over  which  he  probably  approached 
the  Geysers,  called  Cobb's  Peak,  commands  one  of 
the  grandest  views  obtainable  in  California.  North- 
ward, only  fifteen  miles  off,  lies  Clear  Lake,  divided 
in  two  parts  by  the  purple  bulk  of  Uncle  Sam 
Mountain,  and  surrounded  by  the  rugged  spurs  of 
the  Coast  Range.  On  a  clear  day,  one  can  see  in 
that  direction  two  hundred  miles  in  an  air-line, 
where  the  snowy  crown  of  Mount  Shasta,  fourteen 
thousand  four  hundred  and  forty  feet  above  the  sea, 
floats  in  the  sky  like  a  fixed  cloud. 


THE    GEYSERS.  235 

Mount  St.  Helena  and  Napa  Valley  lie  nearer  at 
hand,  and  to  the  westward  the  eye  takes  in  the 
Pacific  Ocean  for  a  hundred  miles  along  the  coast. 
Cobb's  Peak  can  be  ascended  on  horseback.  The 
timber  is  not  thick  on  the  way,  and  many  charming 
outlooks  are  obtained.  Another  scenical  treat  may 
be  had  by  returning  to  San  Francisco  by  way  of  the 
old  road  across  the  Hog's  Back,  to  Ray's  Station, 
and  thence  into  Russian  River  and  Sonoma  Valley. 
Reaching  San  Francisco  by  this  route  the  tourist 
will  have  gained  a  very  good  idea  of  the  northern 
coast  valleys  of  California,  and  the  noble  bay  into 
which  they  partly  drain. 


GOLDEN    GATE   PARK. 


Beyond  the  town,  the  bushy  mounds  between, 
Roll  drifts  of  yellow  wrinkled  sand  — 

Uncrested  waves,  that  dash  against  the  green 
Like  ocean  billows  'gainst  the  strand  ; 

But  when  the  spring  is  soft,  and  winds  are  low, 

The  shifting  masses  lie  as  still 
As  frozen  banks  of  crusted  moonlit  snow 

That  hide  the  hollow  in  the  hill. 

One  way  a  mountain  lifts  its  verdant  crest 

Along  a  blue  and  cloudless  sky ; 
On  sloping  pastures  cattle  feed  or  rest, 

And  swallows  twitter  as  they  fly. 


GOLDEN  GATE  PARK.  237 

Below,  around,  the  lusty  lupin  blooms 

In  purple  color,  honey  sweet ; 
The  poppy's  deep  and  golden  cup  illumes 

Each  plat  of  grass  or  chance-sown  wheat. 

On  rounded  hillocks  lustrous  leafage  shoots 

From  laurel  and  from  thorny  oak, 
And  sprawling  vinelets  clutch  with  thirsty  roots 

The  soil  no  rain  can  ever  soak. 

A  deep-set  lakelet,  greenly  ringed  about, 

Gems  with  its  blue  an  open  space, 
Where  yellow  buttercups  their  beauty  flout, 

And  insects  flutter  o'er  its  face. 

Through  scenes  like  this  the  red  and  winding  way 

Gives  glimpses  of  the  gusty  town, 
Throned  on  its  many  hills  along  the  bay, 

Where  far  Diablo  looketh  down. 

But  westward,  over  sand-dunes  ribbed  and  hoar, 

That  deepen  heaven's  azure  hue, 
Are  lines  of  snowy  surf  that  faintly  roar, 

Edging  a  sea  that  melts  in  blue  — 


238  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

A  summer-shining  sea,  that  slides  and  slips 

In  silent  currents  through  the  Gate, 
Where  glinting  sails  of  slowly  moving  ships 

For  pilot  or  for  breezes  wait. 

Northward,  beyond  a  ridge  of  yellow  sand, 

That  hides  the  narrow  harbor-way, 
Rise  headlands  brown  and  bluff,  whose  summits  grand 

Are  islanded  in  vapors  gray. 

Below  a  line  of  arrow-headed  firs, 

That  stretches  'neath  a  strip  of  cloud, 

The  slope  is  softly  greened,  and  nothing  stirs 
But  shadow  of  the  misty  shroud. 

Peace  broods  where  winds  are  fiercely  wont  to  rave, 

To  drive  the  sand  like  sleet  before  ; 
No  sound  disturbs  the  vernal  stillness,  save 

The  surf  upon  the  distant  shore  — 

The  faintly  sighing  surf,  or  linnet's  song, 

Or  music  of  the  friendly  voice, 
Which  gives  to  nature  as  we  go  along 

A  charm  that  makes  the  day  more  choice. 


CITY   SCENERY. 


The  traveler  who  approaches  San  Francisco  for 
the  first  time  from  the  sea  will  not  be  charmed  by 
its  appearance,  unless  he  has  been  fitted  by  a  voyage 
of  many  months,  like  those  early  ones  around  Cape 
Horn,  to  welcome  the  sight  of  any  land  or  town  as 
beautiful.  There  is  some  beauty  of  form  in  the 
deeply  eroded  sandstone  hills  along  the  ocean  where 
the  surf  dashes  and  roars  constantly,  and  some  rich- 
ness in  their  tints  of  brown  rock  and  yellow  stubble 
under  a  summer  sun  and  clear  sky.  There,  as  the 
ship  enters  a  narrow  strait  leading  to  the  bay,  bold 
rocky  cliffs  on  one  side,  a  tall  mountain  on  the  other, 
the  water  covered  with  wild  fowl,  and  the  bay  shores 
and    islands    coming    into    view    ahead,    the    scene    is 


240  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

picturesque  and  animated  enough.  But  after  leaving 
the  rugged  headlands  that  form  the  Golden  Gate, 
and  rounding  a  bold,  russet-colored  promontory,  the 
gaze  does  not  rest  so  much  on  these  things  as  on 
the  treeless  sandy  ridge,  the  formed  lines  of  street 
cuttings  which  go  straight  over  or  through  varying 
elevations,  the  mean  architecture,  the  cold,  monoto- 
nous gray  of  land  and  houses,  marking  the  northwest- 
erly extremity  of  the  city.  The  long,  gaunt  peninsula, 
ribbed  with  outcropping  strata  of  serpentine  or  sand- 
stone, with  long  wave-like  sand-dunes  and  rows  of 
square  wooden  houses,  remind  one  strangely  of  some 
monster  skeleton  of  an  early  geological  epoch,  fossil- 
ized, and  partly  uncovered  to  the  cold  sea  winds. 
It  is  only  as  another  turn  reveals  the  east  front 
of  the  city,  crowded  with  the  shipping  of  all  the 
world,  covering  more  hills  than  Rome  can  boast,  and 
flanked  in  the  distance  by  greater  elevations,  that  the 
metropolis  of  the  Pacific  presents  a  really  attractive 
aspect.  Situated  on  the  extremity  of  a  narrow  pen- 
insula, which    divides    the    ocean    from    the    bay,  and 


CITY  SCENERY.  241 

built  mainly  on  the  inner  slopes  of  ridges  rising  one 
above  another  from  the  water's  edge  to  a  height  of 
from  two  hundred  and  fifty  to  four  hundred  feet,  San 
Francisco  has  a  bold  and  striking  appearance.  The 
silvery  vapors  lying  like  clouds  in  the  distant  inter- 
vales or  mountain  sags,  the  blended  smokes  of  the 
city  transformed  by  the  sun  into  a  softening  haze, 
increases  a  grandeur  of  effect  which  is  primarily  due 
to  elevation.  While  the  local  colors  are  brown  and 
sere,  except  when  the  season  of  rain  modifies  them 
with  verdure,  vapor  and  smoke  enforce  a  general  tint 
of  pearly  gray,  shading  off  into  lilac  on  the  higher  and 
farther  mountains,  and  harmonizing  with  the  color 
of  the  bay,  which  only  when  calm  reflects  the  pure 
blue  of  heaven.  Though  mist  and  smoke  are  men- 
tioned, and  either  alone  or  together  are  seldom  quite 
lacking,  the  upper  atmosphere  is  usually  sunny,  giv- 
ing a  sparkle  to  the  dancing  water  and  a  charm  to 
the  land. 

The  hamlet  of   Yerba  Buena,1  from  which  has  de- 

1  Named  from  a  sweet  smelling  indigenous  plant. 
16 


242  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

veloped  in  a  quarter  of  a  century  the  present  city, 
occupied  a  gentle  declivity  between  the  hills  and  a 
crescent  line  of  beach  whose  horns  were  bluff  prom- 
ontories. But  the  pretty  cove  known  to  old  whalers 
and  pioneer  gold-hunters  has  been  filled  in  to  a  line 
drawn  straight  from  point  to  point,  forming  several 
hundred  acres  of  level  land,  which  is  now  thickly 
built  over  and  constitutes  the  commercial  heart  of  the 
city.  Clark's  Point  and  Telegraph  Hill,  the  northerly 
promontory  of  the  old  cove,  have  been  cut  away  un- 
til they  present  a  sheer  precipice  of  brown  siliceous 
sandstone,  nearly  two  hundred  feet  high,  on  the  dizzy 
verse  of  which  rows  of  houses  stand  in  bold  relief 
against  the  sky.  On  the  farther  side  this  declivity 
slopes  down  to  sand-hills  and  dunes  that  stretch  along 
the  bay-entrance  for  several  miles  and  lapse  at  last 
into  the  sea-beach  on  the  western  side  of  the  penin- 
sula. Rincon  Hill,  the  southerly  point  of  the  cove, 
was  a  less  elevated  bluff,  covered  with  beautiful  shrub 
oaks,  laurel,  and  ceanothus ;  but  this  has  been  built 
over,  partly  cut  down  facing  the  lower  bay,  and  quite 


CITY  SCENERY.  243 

cut  through  by  a  leading  street  which  makes  an  ex- 
cavation seventy-five  feet  deep  with  a  talus  of  garden 
mould,  trees  and  plants,  the  debris  of  ruined  home- 
steads, and  a  crest  of  dilapidated  houses  toppling  to 
their  fall  in  a  desolate  way.  The  hills  west  of  the 
cove,  where  they  have  not  been  quite  leveled,  filling 
up  ravines  and  hollows,  have  been  cut  through  by  an 
arbitrarily  rectangular  street  system,  which  may  be 
taken  as  a  good  type  of  the  invincible  but  tasteless 
energy  of  the  pioneer  builders,  who  would  rather  go 
rudely  over  a  difficulty  than  gracefully  around  it. 
The  resultant  inconveniences  of  steep  ascents  for  man 
and  beast,  of  dwellings  left  perched  high  in  air,  of 
repeated  expense  to  modify  early  blunders  are  partly 
compensated  by  the  fact  that  many  of  the  streets  have 
the  most  picturesque  vistas.  Looking  various  ways 
one  sees  in  the  perspective  villa-crowned  cliffs,  the 
craggy  peaks  or  rounded  contour  of  the  peninsular 
hills,  the  straight  blue  ridge  of  San  Bruno  to  the 
southward,  the  Golden  Gateway  cloven  through  beet- 
ling precipices,  the  dromedary-backed    islands   of   the 


244  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

bay,  or  the  rumpled  folds  of  the  Alameda  mountains 
rising  beyond  the  east  side  of  the  bay  to  a  height  of 
from  fifteen  hundred  to  two  thousand  feet,  treeless 
except  for  the  luxuriant  groves  of  oak  and  laurel  hid 
in  their  deep  ravines,  and  lorded  over  by  the  lofty 
peaks  of  the  Mount  Diablo  range  lying  beyond.  The 
streets  leading  east  and  west  give  the  passenger  vis- 
ions of  the  morning  or  evening  sun,  rising  or  setting 
in  glory  over  landscapes  that  seem  almost  a  part  of 
the  city.  In  most  great  cities  nature  is  shut  out  by 
the  walls  of  brick  and  mortar ;  but  in  San  Francisco 
she  always  asserts  her  presence,  if  not  her  influence. 
The  chief  money  mart,  California  Street,  abuts  upon 
a  lovely  picture  of  water  and  mountain  and  sky,  at 
one  end ;  while  at  the  other  end,  down  the  steep 
flank  of  a  high  hill,  the  setting  sun  shoots  his  golden 
arrows  and  trails  a  robe  of  crimson  cloud,  glorifying 
the  street  even  to  the  common  gaze  amid  all  its 
common  houses. 

Climbing  to  the  top  of  this  delectable    hill,  and  of 
Russian   Hill    near   by,  some    three    or   four  hundred 


CITY  SCENERY.  245 

feet  above  the  tide,  we  take  in  the  whole  topography 
and  scenery  of  this  fortunate  city.  The  peninsula, 
twenty-four  miles  in  length,  and  at  its  northerly  end 
only  about  four  miles  wide,  is  made  up  of  high 
sandstone  and  serpentine  hills,  both  ridged  and  tu- 
mular  in  form,  alternating  with  sandy  knolls  or  long 
stretches  of  shifting  dunes,  and  sometimes  separated 
by  grassy  valleys,  shrubby  ravines  and  elevated  pla- 
teaus. On  one  side  is  the  blue  Pacific,  breaking  in 
foam  upon  a  long  sandy  beach  ;  on  another  the  bay, 
laving  the  city  front  and  following  the  many  inden- 
tations of  the  inner  shore-lines  beyond.  If  we  look 
northwestwardly,  we  see  the  steep  bluffs  and  rocky 
headlands  six  or  seven  hundred  feet  high,  a  deep  red- 
dish brown  in  color,  with  green  slopes  above  that 
terminate  in  the  sharp  but  handsome  peak  of  Tamal- 
pais.  This  mountain,  about  two  thousand  six  hun- 
dred feet  high,  is  only  a  few  miles  from  the  city,  and 
rising  so  abruptly  from  the  bay  level  is  a  prominent 
landmark  in  every  direction  for  long  distances.  It  is 
the  terminus  of   a    peculiar   straight    ridge  which    as- 


246  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

cends  gradually  from  the  ocean  side  like  an  inclined 
plain,  forming  one  of  the  ranges  of  Marin.  Thickets 
of  chaparral  give  it  a  dark  color,  according  to  the 
amount  of  humidity  or  sunshine  in  the  air  and  the 
strike  of  the  sun's  rays.  Under  these  shifting  influ- 
ences its  tints  are  infinite.  In  a  perfectly  clear  at- 
mosphere, its  local  color  comes  out  strongly,  and  it 
seems  not  one  fourth  as  far  away  as  usual.  A  very 
slight  haze  clothes  it  in  a  tender  violet  and  sets  it 
farther  off.  If  mists  are  rolling  in  from  the  sea,  they 
circle  about  its  top,  and  lie  in  its  hollows  like  fleecy 
clouds.  A  person  who  stands  on  its  summit  at  such 
a  time  sees  below  him  nothing  but  a  billowy  ocean 
of  silver  vapor,  and  enjoys  in  safety  the  spectacle 
that  aeronauts  attain  only  by  perilous  flights.  If  the 
mists  are  absent,  the  gorges  on  the  northerly  side  are 
seen  to  be  filled  with  noble  groves  of  the  redwood, 
fir,  laurel,  madrona,  and  other  trees  characteristic  of 
the  Coast  Range ;  and  there  will  be,  far  down,  inter- 
vales of  yellow  stubble,  relieved  by  clumps  of  dark 
green  live-oaks  and  blooming  masses  of  buckeye  and 


CITY  SCENERY.  247 

ceanothus.  The  eye  also  takes  in  a  fine  panorama  of 
ocean  and  bay  ;  of  the  gray  hilly  city,  and  its  envi- 
ronments of  richly  colored  mountains ;  of  the  valleys 
opening  to  the  northward  and  the  Sierra  Nevada  in 
the  east.  But  the  sunset  aspects  of  Tamalpais,  from 
the  town,  are  its  peculiar  glory.  These  are  so  rich 
and  yet  so  tender,  like  the  verse  of  Tennyson,  that 
they  defy  description.  A  very  dying  dolphin  of 
mountains  is  Tamalpais.  No  wonder  that  it  is  the 
love  of  local  poets  and  painters,  and  that  enthusiasts 
like  Stoddard  and  Keith  have  made  it  a  very  mount 
of  inspiration. 

Looking  northward,  from  one  high  point  within 
the  city,  we  see  the  islands  of  the  bay.  Alcatraz,  a 
great  brown  turtle  with  red  brick  forts  upon  its  back, 
bristling  with  cannon  from  all  its  steep  shore-batter- 
ies, which  have  displaced  the  beautiful  pelicans  that 
gave  the  island  its  name.  Angel  Island,  whose  cone- 
like top  is  nearly  eight  hundred  feet  above  the  tide,  a 
giant  mound  of  grass  and  flowers  in  the  wet  months, 
of    brown    stubble    in    the  dry ;    Goat    Island,   a    dark 


248  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

olive  green  with  its  chaparral  crown ;  and  smaller 
islands  farther  off,  where  the  upper  bay  pushes  its 
narrower  channels  between  low,  mound-like  hills  cov- 
ered with  wild  oats,  to  meet  the  yellow  discharge  of 
the  river  that  winds  lazily  through  the  broad  prai- 
ries of  the  interior.  In  this  direction  the  vista  ends 
with  the  high  ranges  of  Sonoma  and  Napa,  and 
Mount  St.  Helena,  sixty  miles  off,  lifts  its  peak  of 
slaty  gray  over  four  thousand  feet.  Looking  east- 
wardly,  across  the  bay,  which  is  here  about  five  miles 
wide,  we  see  at  the  base  of  the  Contra  Costa  range 
the  Alameda  Valley,  well  deserving  its  soft  Spanish 
name,  for  its  gentle  slopes  are  partly  covered  with 
dense  groves  of  the  California  live-oak  (Quercus  ag- 
rifolia),  quite  uniform  in  the  rounded  masses  of  their 
foliage  and  their  stout  gray  trunks,  though  curi- 
ously varied  in  botanical  character,  often  loaded  with 
bunches  of  mistletoe,  and  planted  with  an  orchard- 
like regularity,  opening  on  vistas  of  water,  meadow, 
and  hill.  Here  the  milder  climate  permits  a  luxuri- 
ance of  native  flora  which  is    in  marked    contrast    to 


CITY  SCENERY.  249 

the  rather  limited  growths  of  the  sandy  and  windy 
peninsula,  where,  within  the  city  limits,  the  sheltered 
spots  that  were  once  verdant  enough,  have  been 
mostly  buried  by  the  leveling  process  and  covered 
with  buildings.  On  this  favored  slope  a  couple  of 
miles  wide  and  ten  or  twelve  long,  half  a  dozen  oak- 
embowered  towns  nearly  join  their  suburbs  and  dot 
the  lesser  heights  behind  them  with  pretty  villas. 
Chief  of  these  are  Oakland  and  Alameda,  which  are 
nearly  conterminus  for  six  or  seven  miles,  ending 
northerly  in  the  charming  vicinity  of  Berkeley,  where 
the  State  University  is  growing  with  noble  promise 
amid  groves  of  oak  and  bay  and  laurel,  by  the  mar- 
gin of  a  bubbling  brook,  —  a  scene  destined  to  be  as 
classical  in  letters  as  it  is  already  lovely  by  nature. 
The  Alameda  shore  commands  a  grand  view  of  the 
bay,  the  city,  the  islands,  the  Golden  Gate  and  its  sen- 
tinel Tamalpais,  and  even  of  the  ocean  beyond.  The 
Contra  Costa  or  Alameda  mountains  rise  abruptly 
above  it  to  an  average  height  of  fifteen  hundred  feet, 
deeply  eroded  from    summit  to    base,  treeless,  except 


250  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

for  the  beautiful  groves  smuggled  in  the  winding 
gorges  and  passes,  which  are  not  visible  from  the 
city.  At  intervals  of  a  few  years,  a  light  snowfall 
robes  them  for  half  a  day  in  winter — a  spectacle  of 
wonder  in  this  mild  region  where  the  word  winter 
calls  up  no  ideas  but  those  of  needed  showers,  of 
verdure,  and  of  bloom.  Behind  the  Alameda  hills 
rises  the  double  cone  of  Monte  Diablo,  very  near  to 
the  view,  but  separated  from  the  hills  named  by  the 
San  Ramon  Valley,  and  distant  from  the  city  easterly 
about  thirty  miles.  This  peak  is  three  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  fifty-six  feet  high.  Rising  from  the  cen- 
tre of  a  wide  basin  which  runs  into  the  great  valley 
of  the  Sacramento  and  San  Joaquin,  and  being  the 
most  elevated  spot  in  this  region,  Monte  Diablo  looms 
up  in  the  perspective  of  every  view  in  all  directions 
around  it,  and  is  one  of  the  most  familiar  landmarks 
to  the  citizen  of  San  Francisco,  who  sees  it  daily  and 
almost  hourly.  Its  dark  blue  mass  lords  it  nobly  over 
the  brown  hills  of  Alameda,  and  when  it  takes  on 
its  snowy  cap  for   a  few  days  in  the    rainy  season  it 


MMMt'i 


CITY  SCENERy.  25  I 

is  more  peculiarly  prominent.  It  is  a  great  sun-dial, 
for  the  stages  of  the  coming  or  going  day  are  marked 
in  bands  of  shifting  color  upon  its  top.  Around  its 
base,  fertile  valleys  swell  to  meet  its  foot-hills  as  if 
they  would  embrace  it,  and  hold  a  score  of  thrifty 
towns.  From  its  summit  one  of  the  most  extensive 
and  beautiful  views  in  the  Union  can  be  obtained. 
The  great  plains  of  the  Sacramento  and  San  Joa- 
quin, stretching  from  the  northeast  to  southwest 
nearly  three  hundred  and  fifty  miles ;  the  rivers  of 
the  same  names  winding  their  yellow  currents  from 
north  and  south,  meeting  at  the  head  of  the  upper 
bay ;  the  vast  bulk  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  with  its 
snowy  crest,  along  the  eastern  sky,  from  Lassen's 
Peak  at  one  extremity  to  Mount  Whitney  at  another ; 
the  isolated  "  Buttes "  of  Marysville  in  the  centre  of 
the  Sacramento  Valley  ;  the  line  of  the  Coast  Range 
from  Mount  St.  Helena  on  the  north,  to  Mount  Ham- 
ilton, four  thousand  four  hundred  feet  high,  at  the 
south,  broken  into  lesser  spurs  around  the  bay ;  the 
whole  scenery  of   the  bay  itself,  the  city,  the  Golden 


252  CAL1F0RNIAN  PICTURES. 

Gate,  the  ocean  beyond,  —  all  this  magnificent  pan- 
orama, in  clear  weather,  lies  spread  out  before  the 
spectator  on  the  summit  of  Diablo.  The  area  in- 
cluded within  the  bounds  of  this  view  is  probably 
not  less,  according  to  Professor  Whitney,  than  forty 
thousand  square  miles  ;  adding  what  can  be  seen  of 
the  ocean  it  is  much  more.  It  might  well  have  been 
on  such  a  commanding  height  as  this  that  the  enemy 
of  mankind  tempted  the  Saviour;  and  an  early  Span- 
ish legend,  to  which  the  mountain  owes  its  name,  act- 
ually located  here  a  terrifying  appearance  of  the  devil 
to  a  party  of  explorers.  This  legend  would  seem  to 
indicate  a  belief  that  the  mountain  is  of  volcanic 
origin,  as  it  has  been  said  to  be  by  some  writers ; 
but  it  is  simply  a  grand  mass  of  metamorphic  sand- 
stone, flanked  by  jasper,  shales,  and  slates,  with  lim- 
ited coal-beds  at  its  base  and  deposits  of  cretaceous 
fossils.  The  gap  between  the  two  peaks  is  eight  hun- 
dred feet  deep,  and  the  north  peak  is  nearly  three 
hundred  feet  lower  than  its  companion.  From  cer- 
tain points    of  view  the  two    peaks  are    brought  into 


CITY  SCENERY.  253 

line  and  have  the  effect  of  a  single  perfect  cone. 
Seen  from  the  upper  bay  or  river,  the  mountain 
seems  to  rise  in  this  shape  directly  from  the  water's 
edge,  and  is  very  imposing  in  its  near  bulk.  The 
ascent  of  it  from  any  quarter,  with  the  ever  expand- 
ing outlooks  revealed,  is  full  of  picturesque  charm. 
The  nearer  scenery  of  the  foot-hills  and  lower  flanks 
—  embracing  Graceful  wavelets  of  harvest-land,  melt- 
ing  into  level  spaces,  deep  gorges  filled  with  ever- 
green growths,  sandstone  cliffs  weathered  into  fantas- 
tic forms,  and  bits  of  charming  brooks  and  grassy 
springs  —  is  itself  a  treat  to  the  lover  of  nature. 
Sunrise  and  sunset  are  the  best  hours  for  visiting 
the  summit.  At  the  former,  the  air  is  clearest,  and 
one  gets  the  widest  view,  besides  the  glorious  spec- 
tacle of  the  great  round  orb  flashing  up  above  the 
crest  of  the  Sierra,  bringing  its  highest  peaks  of  snow 
into  sharp  relief.  The  shadow  of  the  peak  is  thrown 
in  a  pyramidal  form  over  the  whole  country  to  the 
west,  across  the  Alameda  hills,  the  bay  and  peninsula 
of  San  Francisco,  and    into  the    ocean    beyond,  forty 


254  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

miles  in  length,  —  a  dark  bluish  triangle  of  shade  that 
shortens  slowly  as  the  sun  rises  higher  and  higher, 
that  withdraws  by  almost  imperceptible  degrees  from 
the  ocean,  from  the  peninsula  and  bay,  from  the  Ala- 
meda range  and  San  Ramon  Valley,  up  the  flanks 
of  Diablo  himself,  and  there  at  last  quite  disappears. 
At  evening  this  spectre  of  the  peak  is  reversed,  fall- 
ing over  the  San  Joaquin  Valley,  up  the  Sierra,  and 
even  into  the  sky,  at  first  gradually  lengthening  as 
the  sun  sinks  lower  in  the  west,  and  then  losing  it- 
self in  the  general  twilight  and  darkness  of  his  dis- 
appearance. Looking  seaward  then,  we  observe  the 
myriad  lights  of  the  city,  if  no  fog  obscures  them, 
and  on  the  distant  Farallone  Islands  the  flashing  of 
the  beacon  set  to  warn  mariners. 

Returning  again  to  our  hill  in  the  city,  one  over- 
looks the  undulations  of  the  metropolis  all  around 
him,  and  has  a  vivid  sense  of  the  abounding  energy, 
increased  by  the  stimulus  of  a  dry  and  equable  cli- 
mate, which  created  the  place  from  nothing.  Over 
the  populous  levels  to  the  west  and  south,  which  lie 


CITY  SCENERY.  255 

like  gulfs  between  California  Street  Hill  and  the  Mis- 
sion Hills,  hang  vapors  and  smokes  that  the  evening 
sun  transforms  into  beautifying  haze,  like  those  gauzy 
veils  that  women  wear  to  enhance  their  charms.  The 
Mission  Hills  bound  a  plain  where  stands  Dolores 
and  still  rings  its  centuried  bell,  in  the  heart  of  the 
busy  community  which  has  succeeded  its  primitive 
congregation  of  simple  savages.  These  hills,  eight  or 
ten  hundred  feet  high,  dividing  two  extremities  of  the 
city,  are  brown  and  barren  enough  near  at  hand, 
though  always  graceful  with  their  cap-like  peaks, 
and  richly  dight  with  buttercups  and  poppies  in  the 
spring,  or  with  purple  at  all  seasons  when  the  set- 
ting sun  makes  them  aflame.  Farther  in  the  same 
direction  the  high  walls  of  the  San  Bruno  Mountains 
are  drawn  in  darker  purple  along  the  sky,  the  bris- 
tling fir  trees  scattered  on  their  summits,  distinctly 
visible,  calling  to  the  citizen's  mind  memories  of  the 
solemn,  sonorous  woods  that  look  upon  the  sea. 
From  the  base  of  these  mountains,  which  mark  the 
breaking   down   of   the    Santa  Cruz    Range,   stretches 


256  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

around  the  southerly  end  of  the  bay  a  margin  of  fat 
valleys,  rich  in  grain  and  fruit,  embracing  those  of 
San  Jose,  Santa  Clara,  and  curving  eastwardly  again 
to  Alameda.  As  the  sun  descends,  the  bay  begins 
to  reflect  the  tints  of  the  sky.  Shadows  fall  into  the 
hollows  of  the  city,  and  crawl  up  the  slopes  of  the 
Alameda  hills,  beyond  which  the  top  of  Diablo  is 
ruddy  with  the  last  glow  of  day. 

But  before  day  closes  let  us  descend  to  an  inter- 
vale lying  farther  west,  and  thence  climb  the  ridge 
which  is  crowned  by  the  monumental  peak  of  Lone 
Mountain,  around  whose  slopes,  looking  both  towards 
the  city  and  the  sea,  all  the  worry  and  passion  and 
pride  of  the  hard  metropolis  sink  at  last  into  the 
grave.  The  noisy  town  on  one  side,  and  the  still 
blue  Pacific  on  the  other,  of  these  thousands  who 
have  gone  before,  are  apt  emblems  of  the  lives  they 
led,  and  the  peace  they  have  found.  The  city  thins 
into  scattered  hamlets,  that  are  lost  in  drifting  sand ; 
and  beyond  one  sees  the  ocean,  hears  the  faint  roar 
of  its  surf,  and,  when  the  air  is  clear  enough,  catches 


CITY  SCENERY.  257 

glimpses  of  the  Farallon  Islands,  thirty  miles  away, 
where  the  imagination  pictures  the  sharp  gray  cliffs 
populous  with  seals,  gulls,  and  murres.  Among  the 
sand,  on  every  hand  are  hillocks  of  green  shrubbery, 
with  intervales  of  grass,  hollows  filled  with  ceanothus 
thickets  and  groves  of  stunted  live-oak,  and  even  a 
lakelet  or  two,  where  a  great  park  is  in  progress  of 
creation.  The  mists  that  often  roll  in  over  the  sea- 
ward slope  maintain  an  olive-tinted  verdure  through 
the  long  rainless  summer ;  but  the  landscape,  except 
on  the  sunniest  days,  when  little  or  no  wind  blows, 
is  sombre  and  melancholy.  After  the  rains  begin,  in 
October  or  November,  and  thence  until  May  or  June, 
extensive  thickets  of  lupin  and  ceanothus,  encroach- 
ing on  the  drifting  sands,  take  on  a  brighter  green 
and  burst  into  profuse  bloom,  blending  their  tints  of 
lemon  and  purple  and  blue,  and  scenting  the  air  with 
honeyed  sweets  for  miles.  Orange-colored  poppies 
contest  the  open  spaces  with  shining  buttercups ;  the 
grassy  slopes  of  the  San  Miguel  Mountains  are  dotted 
17 


258  CALIFORNIA!?  PICTURES. 

with   cattle  ;   the  far  ocean  is  blue  and  sunny,  creep- 
ing slowly  upon  the  beach  of  white  sand. 

At  this  season,  also,  the  more  distant  landscape 
southward,  and  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  bay,  as 
well  as  north  of  the  Golden  Gate,  takes  on  a  light 
pea-green,  to  which  the  vaporous  air  rising  from  the 
water  gives  a  soft  gray  tint  as  seen  from  the  city. 
No  color  can  be  imagined  more  delicate  through  the 
day,  or  more  lovely  in  its  softening  tint  of  violet  at 
evening.  And  a  constant  phenomenon  of  sunset  is 
the  flush  of  pale  pink  far  up  the  eastern  sky.  When 
night  settles  down,  the  view  of  the  city  from  the 
hill-tops,  illuminated  by  long  processions  of  gas-lights 
paling  the  wan  stars  above,  is  singularly  impressive. 
Looked  at  from  the  bay  side,  approaching  on  the 
water,  the  night  aspect  of  the  city  is  still  more 
striking  ;  for  details  are  lost,  and  only  the  thick 
lights  as  they  climb  the  hills  are  seen  as  so  many 
ruddy  stars  against  a  dark  background,  —  those  on 
the  wharves  and  shipping  casting  long,  tremulous  re- 
flections in  front. 


CITY  SCENERY.  259 

How  fortunate  is  San  Francisco  in  these  pict- 
uresque surroundings  and  effects  !  How  fortunate 
again  in  the  high  points  within  her  limits  and  sub- 
urbs, which  command  one  panoramic  view  from  ocean 
to  mountain,  around  the  shores  of  the  peninsula  and 
the  bay.  Scenically,  there  is  no  other  American  city 
so  happy.  And  then  the  climate  of  summer  and 
spring,  whose  means  of  temperature  vary  only  ten 
or  twelve  degrees,  the  seasonable  succession  of  dry 
and  wet,  of  russet  and  green,  the  alternations  of  clear 
and  misty  air,  are  circumstances  which  give  a  pe- 
culiar variety  to  the  scenic  effects.  The  city  land- 
scapes have  their  moods,  as  though  they  were  human. 
When  the  atmosphere  is  transparent  and  still,  the 
town  glows  with  a  mild  heat ;  the  bay  is  like  blue 
satin  with  shadings  of  pink ;  the  mountains  on  every 
side  are  wonderfully  bold  and  near,  revealing  every 
detail  of  their  sculpture  as  well  as  the  strength  of 
their  local  color;  the  sand-dunes  lie  still  against  the 
bluest  sky ;  and  the  ocean  wears  an  expression  ex- 
quisitely dreamy  and  gracious.     Sparkle  and  motion, 


260  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

without  loss  of  clearness,  succeed  the  languor  of  such 
a  day  when  a  light  wind  blows,  ruffling  the  bay,  and 
giving  a  louder  tone  to  the  surf.  Shining  masses  of 
vapor  may  roll  inland,  but  they  are  cumulus,  not 
sheeted,  and  rest  peacefully  in  the  bosom  of  the  hills, 
where  the  sun  makes  of  them  a  splendor.  But  when 
a  true  fog  comes,  it  envelops  everything  in  its  gloom ; 
chills  the  soul  and  body ;  gives  a  cold  gray  look  to 
the  city,  and  makes  a  dolorous  way  of  the  Golden 
Gate,  where  it  pours  in  as  if  it  were  a  troop  of  sad 
spirits.  Such  contrasts  are  full  of  poetic  suggestions, 
and  unite  to  make  a  character  for  our  city  scenery, 
changeful  yet  not  capricious,  full  of  charm  and  con- 
pensation. 


THE    FAWN    ON  'CHANGE. 

(CALIFORNIA    STREET,    SAN    FRANCISCO.) 


It  stood  amid  an  eager  crowd 
Of  brokers  on  "  the  street  "  — 

A  mild-eyed  fawn,  led  by  a  thong 
That  checked  its  impulse  fleet. 

Its  pretty  hairy  sides  were  brown, 
Its  ears  were  large  and  soft, 

And  lightly  moved  its  little  hoofs 
As  though  they  trod  a  croft. 

A  cruel  hunter  killed  its  dam 
While  browsing  in  a  glade 

Of  redwood  hills,  and  saved  the  fawn 
For  profit  in  a  trade. 


262  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

And  so  it  came  to  Mammon's  court, 
Where  fearlessly  it  stood 

As  though  beside  its  dam  again 
Within  its  native  wood. 

How  many  features  hard  and  stern 
Relaxed  before  its  grace ! 

How  many  hands  were  gently  laid 
Upon  its  pretty  face! 

Like  guileless  babyhood  it  touched 

Those  avaricious  men, 
Who  stopped  to  meet  its  lovely  eyes, 

And  turned  to  look  again. 

The  hidden  springs  of  feeling,  choked 

By  sordidness  so  long, 
Welled  up  within  them  as  they  gazed, 

And  bubbled  into  song  — 

A  quiet  song,  that  filled  the  soul 

With  memories  of  days 
When  eyes  as  soft,  of  girls  as  pure, 

Beamed  on  them  love  and  praise  ; 


THE  FAWN  ON  'CHANGE.  .263 

With  memories  of  days  afield, 

When  nature,  for  the  boy, 
Had  still  a  charm  that  made  him  thrill 

With  health-bestowing  joy. 

And  as  they  pass  along  they  see, 

Far  down  the  avenue 
Of  busy  trade,  a  purple  line 

Of  hills  against  the  blue. 

Where  bay  and  oak  the  gorges  fill, 

And  velvet  shadows  lie, 
And  birds  uprising  from  the  wave 

In  lazy  circles  fly. 

They  smell  the  wild  rose  in  the  street, 

And  far  beyond  the  town 
They  seem  to  wander,  where  the  lark 

His  melody  pours  down. 


SANTA    CRUZ   MOUNTAINS. 


Everywhere  in  California  the  Spaniards  or  Span- 
ish-speaking Mexicans  left  the  soft  nomenclature  of 
the  most  musical  language  of  Europe.  They  saw 
much  here  to  remind  them  both  of  Spain  and  Mex- 
ico, —  in  the  lofty  Sierras  capped  with  snow,  in  the 
broad  valleys,  in  the  rich  contrasts  of  russet  and  green 
tints  under  a  cloudless  sky.  Hence  it  was  natural  to 
transfer  to  the  new  land  many  of  the  names  familiar 
in  the  old.  The  religious  sentiment  of  the  Mission 
Fathers  and  their  followers  led  them  to  add  names 
of  sacred  meaning,  equally  musical.  From  these  two 
causes  it  results  that  California  rejoices  in  a  nomen- 
clature which  both  recalls  visions  of  Old  Spain  and 
revives  the    religious    traditions  of   the  Middle  Ages. 


SANTA    CRUZ  MOUNTAINS.  265 

The  names  of  the  mission  establishments  were  ex- 
tended to  the  adjacent  country,  to  valley,  mountain, 
or  stream,  as  in  the  case  of  San  Buenaventura,  Santa 
Barbara,  and  many  other  charming  localities  of  mel- 
lifluous title.  In  this  way  the  name  of  Santa  Cruz 
was  extended  from  the  Mission  of  the  Holy  Cross, 
founded  in  1 791,  to  the  noble  mountains  that  rise 
behind  it,  overlooking  the  ocean.  The  Santa  Cruz 
Mountains  are  simply  a  conspicuous  spur  of  the 
Coast  Range,  beginning  a  few  miles  south  of  San 
Francisco,  and  extending  fifty  or  sixty  miles  parallel 
with  the  trend  of  the  coast.  On  the  east  side  of  this 
spur  lie  the  extensive  valleys  of  San  Jose  and  Santa 
Clara,  which  skirt  the  lower  end  of  San  Francisco 
Bay,  and  are  bounded  by  the  Alameda  ridges  of  the 
Coast  Range  farther  inland.  Between  the  Santa  Cruz 
Mountains  and  the  Pacific  there  is  only  a  narrow 
strip  of  terraced  soil,  marking  the  recession  of  the 
ocean  at  different  periods  as  the  land  was  elevated, 
and  leaving  fertile  plateaus  where  anciently  rolled 
wave  and  tide. 


266  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

These  mountains  have  a  base  about  twenty-five 
miles  wide,  and  an  elevation  of  from  two  thousand  to 
nearly  four  thousand  feet,  including  several  character- 
istic peaks.  As  they  consist  chiefly  of  sandstone, 
they  have  been  eroded  during  tens  of  centuries,  by 
the  copious  winter  rains  of  this  climate,  into  most 
picturesque  forms.  Their  slopes  are  channeled  with 
deep  ravines,  their  crests  cut  through  by  numerous 
passes,  dividing  conical  or  tabular  summits,  and  their 
bases,  spread  out  in  tumuli-like  foot-hills,  gradually 
sink  into  level  benches  or  valleys.  At  one  place  near 
Santa  Cruz  the  sandstone  of  the  lower  slopes  has 
weathered  into  forms  curiously  resembling  columnar 
ruins  and  castellated  piles.  Along  the  ocean  it  is 
cut  into  cliffs  and  walls  that  loom  gray  and  resplen- 
dent, and  against  which  the  surf  dashes  and  roars 
without  rest ;  though  the  harvest  may  be  yellow  to 
the  very  edge  above,  where  bloom  purple  flowers  fed 
on  the  spray.  But  the  glory  of  the  mountains  is 
their  magnificent  forest  of  redwood,  which  clothes  all 
their    upper  flanks    in  perennial    verdure,    and    grows 


SANTA    CRUZ  MOUNTAINS.  267 

lustily  in  the  congenial  sandstone  soil  and  sea  fogs, 
without  which  these  trees  do  not  flourish,  if  indeed 
they  can  exist.  Pines,  firs,  and  oaks  there  are  also, 
but  these  we  have  seen  elsewhere,  while  the  redwood 
has  its  habitat  only  in  portions  of  the  Coast  Range. 
Leaving  the  sandy  and  treeless  peninsula  of  San  Fran- 
cisco, skirting  the  marshy  shores  of  the  lower  bay,  and 
crossing  the  fertile  valley  of  San  Jose,  whose  level 
surface  of  harvest,  orchard,  and  vineyard  stretches  to 
bare,  brown  hills,  which  are  relieved  only  in  the  south- 
west by  blue  mountains,  it  is  a  fine  contrast  to  dash 
up  the  umbrageous  flanks  of  the  Santa  Cruz,  through 
clouds  of  red  dust  it  may  be,  but  also  through  such 
forests  as  one  sees  nowhere  out  of  California. 

There  are  two  ways  of  going  over  the  range  from 
the  inner  valleys,  and  each  has  its  special  features. 
Turning  to  the  westward  from  the  pretty  oak-nest- 
ling town  of  San  Mateo,  which  lies  in  a  narrow  vale 
crowded  between  the  bay  and  the  Sierra  Morena 
branch  of  the  Santa  Cruz  Range,  the  stage  leads 
up  the  San   Mateo  Creek,  —  a  little  trout-stream  em- 


268  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

bowered  with  chestnut  oaks,  with  densely-leaved  and 
aromatic  bay  trees,  with  tall,  straight  alders  rooted  in 
the  very  water,  and  with  many  flowering  shrubs,  its 
lower  banks  curtained  by  hanging  vines  or  edged  with 
mosses  and  tufted  grass.  What  an  exquisite  shelter- 
ing from  the  summer  glare  outside,  which  burns  down 
on  rolling  hills  yellow  with  grain  or  stubble,  where 
only  rare  clumps  of  shrub  oak  or  buckeye  relieve 
the  sight  with  patches  of  grateful  shade,  or  the  ma- 
drofia  shows  its  smooth,  ruddy  bark  and  lustrous 
waxen  leaves,  dwarfing  the  not  dissimilar  manzanita. 
Leaving  the  creek,  and  going  steadily  upward,  the 
road  curves  among  lofty  rounded  hills,  that  wave 
their  green  or  yellow  harvests  in  rippling  lines  along 
the  sky  edge  on  either  side,  producing  a  most  curious 
effect  of  color  and  motion.  Nothing  can  be  softer 
than  the  myriad  wavelets  of  light  and  shade,  while 
the  breeze-tossed  grain  rolls  ceaselessly  against  the 
blue  heaven  far  above  the  eye.  And  so  we  reach  a 
narrow  summit  some  two  thousand  feet  above  the 
valley  and  the  bay,  and  have  a  rich    prospect   as  we 


SANTA    CRUZ  MOUNTAINS.  269 

gaze  down  upon  them  and  beyond  to  the  treeless 
ridges  of  the  Mount  Diablo  range.  Immediately 
descending  again,  we  enter  a  long  and  narrow  pass, 
cut  deep  in  the  western  slope,  which  leads  almost 
straight  to  the  Pacific,  opening  a  free  view  of  the 
blue  ocean  and  its  white  crescent  lines  of  surf  beat- 
ing upon  the  green  beach  of  Half  Moon  Bay.  This 
gorge  is  comparatively  treeless ;  but  its  lower  slopes 
are  cultivated,  and  along  the  black,  loamy  banks  of 
its  little  stream  are  patches  of  the  yellow  primrose 
and  sweet-brier,  of  spotted  tulips,  golden  poppies,  and 
purple  lupins.  The  moist  sea  air  keeps  the  grass 
always  green,  and  we  seem  to  have  suddenly  reached 
another  climate  than  that  of  the  warm  and  dry  in- 
terior, with  its  prevalent  summer  colors  of  russet  and 
chrome.  A  most  exhilarating  dash,  with  the  ocean 
always  in  view  ahead,  brings  us  to  the  shore,  where 
we  turn  southward  through  uneven  benches  cultivated 
to  vegetables  and  grain,  hugging  the  rugged  hills  on 
one  side,  and  gazing  with  unflagging  zest  at  the  con- 
tinuous lines  of  surf   on  the  other.     The  day's   jour- 


270  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

ney  ends  at  Pescadero,  a  white,  snug,  New  England 
looking  village,  on  the  level  banks  of  a  creek  by  the 
same  name,  which  puts  down  from  the  redwoods  to 
the  sea  and  empties  through  a  rolling  pasture-land 
two  miles  from  the  town.  Judging  from  its  name, 
Pescadero  must  have  been,  in  Mexican  times,  a  favor- 
ite fishing  resort ;  indeed  it  is  yet,  for  the  numerous 
streams  in  the  vicinity  abound  in  trout,  other  varie- 
ties of  fish  coming  up  with  the  tides  from  the  sea, 
and  the  very  surf  on  the  shore  containing  a  peculiar 
viviparous  fish,  the  catching  of  which  is  amusing  just 
in  proportion  to  its  uncertainty.  The  little  oblong 
valley  where  the  village  stands  was  once  a  salt  marsh, 
and  is  still  a  marsh  at  its  seaward  extremity.  Shut 
in  by  long,  wave-like  hills,  which  are  always  green 
with  chaparral  thickets  where  they  are  not  made  into 
hay  and  grain  fields,  its  proximity  to  the  ocean  is 
announced  only  by  the  morning  mists  and  by  the 
distant  roar  of  the  surf,  which  reminds  one  at  night 
of  the  solemn  monody  of  Niagara.  The  rolling  up- 
land that  leads  out  to  the    Pacific    is  a  rich  pasture, 


SANTA    CRUZ  MOUNTAINS.  27 1 

and  forms  part  of  a  famous  dairy  range.  Among  the 
grass,  within  reach  of  the  drenching  spray,  wild  straw- 
berries are  plentiful  in  the  season.  Suddenly  this 
pasture  edges  upon  a  steep  bluff  that  overlooks  the 
ocean.  At  the  foot  of  this  bluff,  and  shallowing  out 
to  the  rocky  bar,  lies  a  beach  composed  of  wonderfully 
clean  and  beautiful  pebbles,  including  jasper,  agates, 
carnelians,  and  other  siliceous  stones,  derived  from 
an  adjacent  stratum  of  coarse  friable  sandstone,  and 
worn  lustrously  smooth  by  constant  rolling  on  the 
surf,  which  flings  them  back  in  huge  windrows  daily. 
The  opaline,  pearly,  amethystine,  amber,  and  ruby 
tints  of  these  pebbles  are  enhanced  as  they  lie  wet  at 
the  edge  of  the  surf.  One  seems  to  have  fallen,  like 
Sinbad,  upon  a  Golconda  of  gems.  The  labor  of  pick- 
ing out  the  most  beautiful  of  the  small  pebbles,  which 
may  not  be  larger  than  a  pea,  is  very  fascinating. 
People  go  to  the  beach  to  stay  for  an  hour  or  two, 
and  remain  all  day,  reluctant  to  leave  at  last.  Sober 
men  of  business,  with  hard  lines  of  care  on  their 
faces,  who  put  a  monetary  value  on  time,  give  them- 


272  CAL1F0RNIAN  PICTURES. 

selves  up  to  the  beguilement  almost  as  willingly  as 
women  and  children.  Groups  of  both  sexes  and  all 
ages  can  be  seen  lying  prone  for  hours,  scratching 
with  their  hands  for  rare  stones,  shouting  with  pleas- 
ure when  successful,  or  with  pretty  alarm  when  the 
surf  pushes  hissingly  up  to  where  they  lie,  leaving 
behind  iridescent  bubbles  and  brighter  gleaming  peb- 
bles. As  the  surf  breaks  and  foams  over  the  flat 
rocks  running  out  from  the  beach,  it  has  a  singularly 
reverberant  yet  soothing  sound,  varied  by  the  thun- 
derous roar  that  comes  at  intervals  from  the  cliffs 
near  by,  where  the  spray  tosses  up  to  a  great  height. 
In  the  pools  among  the  rocks,  at  low  tide,  one  sees 
numerous  beautiful  polyps,  grafted  on  the  rocks  like 
living  chrysanthemums  of  the  sea  —  animal  flowers 
indeed.  Upon  neighboring  benches  of  sand  the 
pearly  shell  of  the  abalone  is  found,  with  many  hand- 
some varieties  of  algae.  Only  five  miles  from  this 
beautiful  beach  begin  the  superb  forests  of  redwood 
which  stretch  up  the  western  flanks  of  the  Santa 
Cruz    Mountains.     A   drive    of   three    miles    into    the 


SANTA    CRUZ  MOUNTAINS.  273 

hills  beyond  Pescadero,  the  narrow  roadway  frequently 
embowered  with  willows,  cottonwood,  alder,  and  bay 
trees,  takes  us  into  the  very  heart  of  a  dense  and 
solemn  grove,  whence  sunlight  and  sound  are  alike 
excluded,  and  the  slightest  motion  or  chirrup  of  a 
tree-squirrel  seems  a  disturbance.  The  redwood  is  a 
species  of  the  same  genus  {sequoia)  to  which  the 
Big  Trees  of  Calaveras  and  Mariposa  belong,  and 
rivals  the  latter  in  magnitude  as  it  resembles  them 
in  general  appearance.  Nowhere  else  than  in  Cali- 
fornia is  any  species  of  this  genus  found,  except  as  a 
fossil  relic  of  a  past  geological  epoch.  But  the  red- 
wood surpasses  the  Big  Tree  in  general  effect,  be- 
cause, as  Professor  Brewer  says,  it  frequently  forms 
the  entire  forest,  while  the  Big  Tree  is  nowhere  found 
except  scattered  among  other  trees,  and  never  in 
clusters  or  groups  isolated  from  other  species.  In 
the  graphic  words  of  Professor  Whitney :  "  Let  one 
imagine  an  entire  forest,  extending  as  far  as  the  eye 
can    reach,  of   trees    of  from    eight  to    twelve  feet   in 

diameter,  and   from    two    hundred    to    three    hundred 
18 


274  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

feet  high,  thickly  grouped,  their  trunks  marvelously 
straight,  not  branching  till  they  reach  from  one  hun- 
dred to  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  ground, 
and  then  forming  a  dense  canopy,  which  shuts  out 
the  view  of  the  sky,  the  contrast  of  the  bright,  cin- 
namon-colored trunks  with  the  sombre  deep  yet  brill- 
iant green  of  the  foliage,  the  utter  silence  of  these 
forests,  where  often  no  sound  can  be  heard  except 
the  low  thunder  of  the  breaking  surf  of  the  distant 
ocean,  —  let  one  picture  to  himself  a  scene  like  this, 
and  he  may,  perhaps,  receive  a  faint  impression  of  the 
majestic  grandeur  of  the  redwood  forests  of  Califor- 
nia." Some  of  the  redwoods  in  the  forests  near  Pes- 
cadero  measure  from  fifteen  to  twenty  feet  in  diam- 
eter. Near  Santa  Cruz  there  is  a  grove  containing 
equally  large  trees.  Members  of  the  Geological  Sur- 
vey have  reported  trees  in  the  northern  part  of  the 
Coast  Range  from  twenty-five  to  thirty  feet  in  diam- 
eter, and  three  hundred  feet  high.  A  hollow  red- 
wood stump  exists  near  Eureka  in  which  thirty-three 
pack-mules   were  stabled  together.     Near  the  summit 


SANTA    CRUZ  MOUNTAINS.  275 

of  the  Santa  Cruz  Range  is  a  hollow  tree  in  which  an 
old  hunter  made  his  convenient  home  for  a  lon^  time. 
Professor  Whitney  relates  that  during  the  strong 
winds  of  1861-62  redwood  logs  drifted  out  to  sea 
along  the  northern  coast  in  such  immense  numbers 
as  to  be  dangerous  to  ships  one  hundred  and  fifty- 
miles  from  land.  They  were  afterwards  thrown  ashore 
in  great  piles,  and  on  being  measured  were  found  to 
vary  from  one  hundred  and  twenty  to  two  hundred 
feet  in  length;  while  one  of  two  hundred  feet  was 
ten  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base,  and  another  of  two 
hundred  and  ten  feet,  was  three  feet  in  diameter  at 
the  little  end.  In  a  thick  forest  of  such  giants  the 
soil  is  kept  moist  and  cool,  and  supports  a  luxuriant 
undergrowth,  including  ferns  and  delicate  flowers. 
Animal  life  prefers  the  warmer  and  brighter  regions 
of  the  oak,  on  the  slopes  or  in  the  valleys,  and  the 
thickets  of  the  comparatively  treeless  hills  ;  though  at 
considerable  elevation  the  redwoods  are  tenanted  by 
the  grizzly  bear,  which  is  sometimes  more  than  a 
match  for  the  luckless  sportsman  or  traveler  who 
encounters  him. 


276  CALIF0RN1AN  PICTURES. 

The  half  day's  drive  from  Pescadero  to  Santa  Cruz, 
along  the  coast  hills,  and  often  over  the  very  beach, 
is  most  exhilarating  and  picturesque.  Always  the 
rumpled  folds  of  the  bare  sandstone  mountains  on 
one  side,  and  the  sunny  surf  and  rolling  ocean  on  the 
other,  with  occasional  passages  through  ravines  cano- 
pied by  evergreen  oaks  and  laurels,  glimpses  of  white 
sails  along  the  watery  horizon,  and  precipitous  out- 
looks over  reefs  where  ships  have  been  wrecked  and 
their  crews  lost.  A  whale  that  is  common  off  the 
coast,  and  is  often  pursued  and  captured  by  hardy 
men  in  small  boats,  who  make  this  pursuit  a  busi- 
ness, is  frequently  seen  blowing  up  his  shining  fount- 
ain of  vaporous  breath.  At  Pigeon  Point  there  are 
odorous  reminders  that  here  leviathan  is  brought  to 
the  martyr's  trial  of  fire  for  the  good  (oil)  that  is  in 
him. 

Santa  Cruz  stands  on  a  triple  terraced  plain  be- 
tween the  mountains  of  the  same  name  and  the  lovely 
Bay  of  Monterey.  Two  long  promontories  jutting  out 
about  ten  miles  from  the  main-land,  and  about  twenty 


SANTA    CRUZ  MOUNTAINS.  2  J  J 

miles  apart,  form  the  circular  bay  which  is  named 
from  the  old  town  on  its  lower  side,  Santa  Cruz  be- 
ing on  the  upper  side.  The  portion  of  sea  thus  in- 
closed is  more  delicately  blue  than  the  open  ocean, 
and  usually  more  tranquil.  Nothing  can  be  more 
graceful  than  the  bent  bow  line  of  its  glistening 
sand  beach,  whereon  the  surf  breaks  gently,  accent- 
ing with  its  whiteness  the  tender  blue  of  the  water  be- 
yond. Behind  the  broad  terraced  valley  which  mar- 
gins the  bay,  and  which  is  dotted  with  groves  of 
live-oak  disposed  in  an  order  almost  artificial,  rise  the 
mountains  above  a  tier  of  foot-hills,  to  a  height  of 
three  thousand  feet,  dark  with  their  forests  of  red- 
wood and  fir,  but  taking  on  in  certain  conditions  of 
the  atmosphere  deliciously  soft  tints  of  purple  and 
violet  and  gray.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  noble 
landscape,  equal  to  anything  on  the  shores  of  the 
Mediterranean,  that  the  Franciscan  friars  founded 
several  of  their  earliest  missions,  raised  the  towers  of 
their  picturesque  churches,  which  recall  Castile  and 
Granada,  and    labored  to  convert  the    simple    aborig- 


278  CALIFOKNIAN  PICTURES. 

ines.  The  ascent  of  the  mountains  from  this  side 
affords  a  series  of  grand  views,  including  deep  gorges, 
outcroppings  of  gray  rock,  vistas  of  red-trunked  con- 
ifers, vapor-girdled  peaks,  undulating  valleys,  wind- 
ing streams,  oak-embowered  villages,  and  deep  blue 
ocean.  Above  the  crest  of  the  range  is  the  dark 
peak  of  Loma  Prieta,  luminous  at  sunset  in  a  rich 
purple  haze.  At  last  the  redwood  forest  completely 
shuts  off  the  scenery  on  the  western  slope,  and  as  we 
go  eastward  the  next  outlook  is  upon  the  oak-cov- 
ered hills  and  golden  valleys  of  San  Jose  and  Santa 
Clara,  bounded  again  by  the  bare  brown  mountains 
of  Alameda,  which  skirt  the  inner  shores  of  San 
Francisco  Bay,  and  stretch  southward  to  the  connect- 
ing ridges  of  the  Gavilan.  If  the  season  is  spring, 
all  this  region  will  be  clad  in  a  garment  of  light 
green,  having  an  undertone  of  that  soft  gray  so  loved 
by  painters,  and  variegated  by  wild-flower  patches  of 
every  color,  while  silvery  clouds  will  move  idly  in 
mid-heaven,  casting  their  shadows  over  the  landscape. 
Such  are  the  contrasts  of  a  climate  which  has  two 
seasons,  of  a  land 


SANTA    CRUZ  MOUNTAINS.  279 

Where  birds  ever  sing,  and  summer  and  spring 

Divide  the  mild  year  between  them  ; 
Where  the  light-footed  hours  are  told  by  gay  flowers 

That  need  no  hot-house  to  screen  them  ; 
Where  there  's  gold  on  the  plain,  in  the  ripe  waving  grain, 

And  gold  in  the  far  purple  hills ; 
Where  the  tall,  sombre  pine  giveth  place  to  the  vine, 

And  the  bee  his  sweet  treasury  fills. 


AUTOCHTHONES. 


No  bronzed  Apollos  of  the  wood 

Those  simple  folk  of  El  Dorado, 
Who  peopled  once  the  solitude 

From  Shasta  to  the  Colorado. 

But,  short  of  stature,  plain  of  mien, 
And  lacking  all  the  sculptured  graces, 

They  still  were  part  of  every  scene, 

And  song  and  science  seek  their  traces. 

No  monument  of  art  arose 

Where  once  they  dwelt  in  densest  numbers  ; 
The  curious  modern  only  knows 

By  kitchen-heaps  the  tribe  that  slumbers. 

Or,  raking  in  the  blackened  soil, 

He  finds  the  tips  of  spears  and  arrows. 


A  UTOCHTHONES.  2  8 1 

Wrought  by  the  ancient  artists'  toil 

To  slay  all  game  from  man  to  sparrows. 

Yet,  artless  as  they  were,  and  still 

As  history  will  be  about  them, 
They  did  their  Mother  Nature's  will. 

And  Nature  could  not  do  without  them. 

They  were  the  Adams  of  the  land, 

Who  gave  to  hill  and  vale  and  river, 
To  every  tranquil  scene  or  grand, 

The  titles  that  recall  the  giver. 

While  soft  Solano  spreads  her  plain, 
And  lifts  his  head,  tall  Yallowballey  — 

The  vanished  people  will  retain 
A  monument  in  hill  and  valley. 

Yosemite  their  name  inscribes 

On  cataract  and  granite  column  ; 
And  Tahoe  murmurs  of  their  tribes 

Among  her  peaks  and  forests  solemn. 


THE    FIRST    PEOPLE. 


These  sketches  of  scenery  in  California  would  be 
incomplete  without  some  reference  to  the  primitive 
people  who  once  enjoyed  that  scenery  exclusively,  and 
who  still  remain  here  and  there  a  picturesque  ele- 
ment of  it.  Nature  will  not  be  divorced  from  her 
children.  In  their  rudest  estate  their  presence  en- 
hances her  charms,  and  valley,  hill,  and  stream  derive 
added  interest  from  human  association.  After  many 
hours,  perhaps  days,  of  lonely  travel  amid  wild  scen- 
ery, when  the  solitude  of  forests  or  the  monotonous 
expanse  of  great  plains  has  become  oppressive,  what 
a  relief  it  was,  in  the  days  of  youthful  adventure,  to 
see  the  smoke  of  an  Indian  camp  curling  up  from 
a  piney   gorge,  to  come   suddenly  upon    the    comical 


THE  FIRST  PEOPLE.  283 

bark  shelters  which  served  the  red  man  in  the  higher 
mountains,  or  to  meet  at  the  turn  of  a  valley  stream 
a  village  of  earth  mounds,  whose  simple  denizens  re- 
garded the  stranger  with  naive  curiosity.  To  this 
day,  the  few  survivors  of  once  numerous  tribes  re- 
main as  picturesque  figures  in  many  a  landscape  that 
would  be  less  effective  without  them.  They  harmo- 
nize with  earth,  and  rock,  and  tree,  as  well  as  the 
larks  and  quails,  and  places  dispeopled  of  them  seem 
to  lack  completeness.  How  much  everywhere  the 
presence  of  man  modifies  the  aspect  of  a  country. 
By  what  he  does,  or  by  what  he  leaves  undone,  the 
region  he  inhabits  is  made  more  or  less  attractive. 
One  race,  or  one  stage  of  culture,  adapting  itself 
to  improving  upon  natural  conditions,  enhances  the 
beauty  of  its  habitat.  Another  race  or  stage  of  cult- 
ure, violating  or  neglecting  those  conditions,  lessens 
or  obliterates  that  beauty.  All  the  Indian  tribes  of 
America  lived  in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  the  natural 
charms  of  their  land  unimpaired.  They  neither  ex- 
tirpated forests  nor  impoverished  the  soil.     The  sites 


284  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

of  their  encampments  and  villages  were  usually  the 
most  lovely  spots.  Even  the  aborigines  of  California, 
reckoned  among  the  lowest  of  their  kind,  seemed  to 
have  a  preference  for  the  prettiest  places.  In  the 
valleys,  their  villages  would  occupy  a  knoll  or  bluff 
overlooking  the  river  and  giving  far  vistas  of  the 
flowery  plain  through  natural  parks  of  oak.  In  the 
foot-hills,  they  would  be  found  on  some  grassy  slope 
by  running  water  or  perennial  springs,  under  or  near 
the  shelter  of  pleasant  groves.  It  is  common  to  at- 
tribute the  selection  of  such  sites  to  an  instinct  for 
the  beautiful,  but  there  is  really  no  good  reason  to 
credit  these  Indians,  if  any,  with  such  a  decided  feel- 
ing for  natural  beauty  as  would  be  required  to  de- 
termine their  choice  of  localities  for  camps  or  homes. 
The  ideas  and  sentiments  which  make  men  fond  of 
fine  landscapes  are  largely  the  result  of  culture.  It 
is  only  in  the  literature  of  refined  nations  that  they 
assert  themselves.  That  the  Indian  village  has  a  fine 
site  or  commands  the  best  view  in  the  neighborhood 
is  only  a  coincidence.     He  camps  or  builds  where  he 


THE  FIRS T  PEOPLE.  285 

finds  the  most  suitable  conditions  for  his  mode  of 
life.  If  in  the  great  valleys  of  California  he  dwells 
by  stream  and  grove,  it  is  to  be  near  water  and  fish- 
ing, and  where,  in  the  summer,  he  can  be  screened 
from  the  intense  heat  of  the  sun.  If  he  choose  a 
knoll  or  bluff,  it  is  because  his  hut  and  his  ricks  of 
acorns  and  cereals  will  be  secure  against  the  floods 
that  often  spread  over  the  lower  land.  On  the  same 
principle  he  selects  banks  of  brooks  or  the  grassy 
mounds  of  springs,  in  the  hills,  because  they  furnish 
him  water  and  umbrageous  shelter.  In  short,  util- 
ity and  not  beauty  is  his  aim  ;  and  it  happens  that 
just  the  conditions  which  are  useful  to  him  enhance 
scenical  beauty.  By  the  reflex  action  of  this  there 
may  in  time  be  developed  in  savage  man  aesthetic 
appreciation,  which  doubtless  grew  at  first  by  some 
such  process  of  evolution.  Without  being  too  curi- 
ous on  this  point,  however,  let  us  be  thankful  to 
whatever  cause  put  the  figure  of  the  red  man  amid 
scenes  that  would  be  less  interesting  without  him. 
Looking    back    twenty-five    or  thirty  years,  we    recall 


286  CALJFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

those  primitive  landscapes  where  he  moved  about  free 
and  lithe  as  the  antelope,  over  valleys  where  wild  oats 
and  flowers  bordered  his  trail,  where  the  only  archi- 
tecture was  his  village  of  conical  earth  huts,  among 
which  stood  poles  decorated  with  the  stuffed  geese 
used  for  decoys  to  entrap  the  living  bird.  Over  broad, 
level  areas  in  the  distance  we  can  see  a  million  wild 
fowl  "  feeding  like  one,"  the  aggregate  movement  of 
their  heads  giving  a  peculiar  ripple  to  the  white  sur- 
face of  the  vast  flock.  Herds  of  elk  wend  their  way 
to  drink  from  the  river,  and  in  the  coverts  of  oak 
the  deer  gaze  with  innocent  eyes,  unsuspicious  of 
danger.  When  the  Mexican  settlers  came,  the  In- 
dians still  remained ;  but  herds  of  domestic  cattle 
disputed  the  pasture  with  their  remote  kindred,  the 
elk  ;  and  the  flat,  oblong  houses  of  sunburnt  bricks, 
with  tiled  roofs  and  court-yards,  and  here  and  there 
the  towers  of  a  church,  gave  a  character  quite  Span- 
ish and  sophisticated  to  the  scenery.  Men  change, 
and  nature  with  them. 

It  must    be  said    now  that    the    aborigines  of  Cali- 


THE  FIRST  PEOPLE.  287 

fornia  are  rapidly  passing  away.  Their  number  in 
1823  was  estimated  at  one  hundred  thousand.  Forty 
years  later,  in  1863,  returns  to  the  Indian  Bureau 
made  it  twenty-nine  thousand  three  hundred.  At  the 
present  time  it  probably  falls  below  twenty  thousand, 
a  quarter  part  of  whom  are  in  government  reserva- 
tions or  living  under  the  protection  and  in  the  care 
of  farmers ;  while  here  and  there,  especially  in  the 
mountains,  a  few  depleted  tribes  still  enjoy  the  free- 
dom of  their  ancestors.  Many  beautiful  valleys,  once 
populous  with  them,  know  them  no  longer.  The 
pioneer  Yount,  who  settled  in  Napa  Valley  in  1830, 
used  to  say  that  it  then  contained  thousands  of  In- 
dians of  the  larger  tribe  that  gave  the  valley  its  name ; 
there  are  now  only  a  few  vagabond  survivors  haunt- 
ing the  purlieus  of  town  and  farm.  Probably  the 
largest  portion  of  the  California  Indians  was  always 
to  be  found  in  the  big  valleys  of  the  interior,  and 
those  lesser  ones  lying  between  the  spurs  of  the 
Coast  Range,  for  it  was  in  these  localities  that  game, 
fish,  seeds,   and    esculents    were    most    abundant    and 


288  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

easily  obtained.  These  lowland  tribes  looked  sleek 
and  well  fed.  They  were  more  amiable  and  less  war- 
like than  their  brethren  of  the  highlands,  who  were 
often  a  terror  to  them.  In  the  southern  part  of  the 
State,  along  the  coast,  they  were  largely  brought 
under  the  influence  of  the  Mission  Fathers  ;  but  in 
the  northern  interior  they  had  not  had  much  contact 
with  our  race  until  after  the  American  occupation. 
Twenty-one  missions  were  established  between  the 
years  1769  and  1820,  extending  from  San  Diego,  in 
the  extreme  southern  portion  of  the  State,  to  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco,  near  its 
centre,  that  at  Sonoma  being  the  last  and  most  north- 
erly. In  the  region  above  Sonoma,  reaching  to  the 
Oregon  border,  and  embracing  an  area  three  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  long  by  one  hundred  or  more  wide, 
the  aborigines  knew  very  little  of  the  greedy  whites 
who  have  since  displaced  and  nearly  exterminated 
them.  A  few  trappers  and  hunters,  mostly  Canadians 
in  the  employ  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  had 
visited  the  head  of  the    Sacramento  Valley  in  search 


THE   FIRST  PEOPLE.  289 

of  otter  and  beaver.  Some  of  the  voyageurs  had 
even  been  accompanied  by  small  bands  of  Oregon 
Indians,  of  more  nomadic  and  warlike  habits.  At 
one  time,  early  in  this  century,  the  Spanish  governor 
of  the  then  province  of  Alta  California  sent  a  mili- 
tary expedition  from  Monterey  to  the  Sacramento 
Valley,  to  drive  out  some  Russians  who  were  re- 
ported to  be  there,  but  who  were  not  found ;  and  old 
Gilroy,  who  was  one  of  the  party,  used  to  tell  how 
numerous  the  Indians  were,  and  how  much  they  were 
frightened  by  the  discharge  of  a  small  howitzer  from 
a  mule's  back,  —  for  such  was  the  primitive  artillery 
of  this  quaint  expedition.  Between  1835  and  1848, 
American  emigrants  began  to  establish  "  ranches " 
in  the  Sacramento  and  northern  coast  valleys.  The 
docile  natives  readily  gathered  about  them,  sometimes 
for  protection  against  the  mountain  Indians,  and  even 
engaged  in  their  service  as  farm  hands.  Their  labor 
was  always  voluntary,  and  the  control  over  them  was 
usually  gentle.  No  concerted  efforts  were  made  to 
teach  them  religion  or  letters.  They  maintained  their 
19 


2  go  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

tribal  organization  as  before,  and  followed  all  their  old 
habits.  They  were  attracted  to  labor  only  by  their 
desire  for  beads,  blankets,  garments,  and  some  articles 
of  our  food  of  which  they  became  very  fond.  Grad- 
ually, as  the  lands  along  the  rivers  were  occupied, 
game  driven  away,  and  their  fish-dams  torn  down  to 
make  way  for  steamboats  and  sailing  craft,  the  In- 
dians mostly  retired  to  the  hills,  whence,  impelled  by 
the  sharp  edge  of  a  new  appetite,  they  made  thiev- 
ing descents  on  cattle-folds  and  stables.  The  settlers 
then  too  often  regarded  and  treated  them  as  enemies 
to  be  killed  on  sight.  Many  of  the  early  border-men, 
who  recognized  no  difference  between  these  and  the 
fierce,  more  aggressive  savages  they  had  known  else- 
where, regarded  them  as  natural  enemies  from  the 
first,  and  would  fire  upon  them  as  readily  as  upon  a 
coyote.  As  late  as  1850,  however,  many  of  the  north- 
ern tribes  were  living  undisturbed  in  their  primitive 
condition,  snaring  geese  and  brant  on  the  plains ; 
crawling  upon  the  antelope  in  the  tall  grass  with 
deceiving   antlers    on    their   heads ;    catching   salmon 


THE   FIRST  PEOPLE.  29 1 

and  sturgeon  nearly  as  long  as  themselves  ;  making 
baskets  and  network,  bows  and  arrows,  and  capes  of 
feathers  ;  wearing  little  clothing,  ordinarily,  but  deco- 
rated sticks  through  the  lobes  of  their  ears  and  fringed 
aprons  of  tule  (a  kind  of  reed)  about  their  loins ;  toot- 
ing mournfully  on  their  little  flutes,  made  by  removing 
the  pith  of  certain  woods  ;  gambling  at  their  native 
games  with  excited  vociferation  ;  sweating  themselves 
in  the  great  medicine  houses ;  howling  over  their 
burnt  or  buried  dead,  —  for  they  both  cremated  and 
inhumed,  —  and  generally  behaving  in  a  way  most 
uncivilized,  but  quite  satisfactory  to  themselves ;  a 
good-natured  and  harmless  race,  as  a  rule,  liking 
the  neighborhood  of  the  whites  when  justly  treated, 
and  seldom  presuming  upon  kindness.  By  their  labor 
on  the  farms,  when  most  of  the  whites  were  digging 
for  gold,  they  helped  in  the  first  development  of  home 
agriculture,  and  thus  played  an  important  part  in  the 
early  resources  of  the  State,  as  before  they  had  aided 
in  building  up  and  maintaining  the  mission  settle- 
ments.    It  has    been    only  since  their   numbers  were 


292  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

thinned  and  scattered  that  anybody  has  tried  to  make 
a  thorough,  systematic  study  of  their  tribal  organi- 
zation, nomenclature,  myths,  and  customs.  Stephen 
Powers  has  latterly  been  devoting  himself  to  this 
useful  task  with  much  zeal  and  success,  and  when 
he  shall  have  published  together  the  papers  on  this 
subject  which  have  appeared  separately  in  the  "  Over- 
land Monthly,"  the  public  will  find  the  book  one  of 
the  most  interesting  contributions  to  Indianology  and 
what  Tylor  calls  the  science  of  primitive  culture. 

During  the  various  rambles  which  furnished  the 
material  for  these  sketches  of  California  scenery  the 
writer  was  much  interested  in  observing  the  evidences 
of  former  Indian  occupation  and  handicraft.  He  had 
seen,  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  that  the  tribes  un- 
affected by  contact  with  our  civilization  presented  a 
perfect  picture  of  the  arts  and  customs  of  the  later 
Stone  age,  when  implements  or  weapons  were  pol- 
ished, and  when  woven  and  braided  fabrics  were 
made,  and  earthen  huts  gave  the  first  kind  of  archi- 
tecture.    He  had  exhumed  from    considerable  depths 


THE  FIRST  PEOPLE.  293 

in  the  auriferous  gravel  deposits  of  the  Sierra  stone 
mortars  and  pestles  and  arrow-heads,  like  those  still 
used  by  living  tribes.  In  later  journeys,  therefore,  it 
was  a  pleasant  incidental  task  to  follow  again  in  the 
footsteps  of  the  first  people.  There  is  no  reason  to 
believe  that  any  tribes  dwelt  permanently  at  great 
elevations  in  the  Sierra  Nevada,  if  anywhere  within 
the  deep  snow-line.  In  the  summit  valleys,  about  the 
lakes,  and  at  the  sources  of  streams,  where  these  wild 
children  of  nature  would  find  it  most  convenient  and 
pleasant  to  live,  the  elevation  above  the  sea  is  from 
five  thousand  to  seven  thousand  feet,  and  the  snow 
falls  to  a  depth  of  from  ten  to  twenty  feet,  contin- 
uing on  the  ground  from  November  or  December 
until  June  or  July.  Most  of  the  lakes  at  this  season 
are  frozen  and  covered  with  snow;  even  the  smaller 
streams  are  often  banked  over  with  snow ;  and  the 
game  has  fled  to  the  lower  portion  of  the  range. 
But  while  the  Sierra  was  not  the  constant  home  of 
the  Indians,  they  resorted  thither  regularly  in  the 
summer    season,    from     June    or   July    to    November, 


294  CALIFOKNIAN  PICTURES. 

except  when  they  were  denizens  of  the  great  lower 
valleys,  which  supplied  them  with  all  they  needed  in 
every  season ;  these  were,  moreover,  occupied  by  the 
less  warlike  tribes,  who  were  seldom  able  to  cope  with 
their  hereditary  foemen  of  the  mountains.  The  sum- 
mit region  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  furnished  good  fish- 
ing in  its  lakes  and  some  of  its  streams ;  deer  and 
mountain  quail  and  grouse  abounded  ;  huckleberries, 
thimble-berries,  wild  plums,  choke-cherries,  gooseber- 
ries, and  various  edible  roots  were  tolerably  plentiful ; 
the  furry  marten,  weasel-like  animals,  woodchucks,  and 
squirrels  were  tempting  prey ;  the  water  was  better, 
and  the  climate  cooler,  than  at  a  less  elevation ;  hence 
this  region  was  the  summer  resort  of  Indians  from 
both  slopes  of  the  range,  and  often  the  possession  of 
a  valley  by  lake  or  river  was  decided  by  battle  be- 
tween the  various  tribes  from  Nevada  and  California. 
The  Hetch-Hetchy  Valley,  or  "  Little  Yosemite,"  for 
instance,  was,  up  to  a  very  recent  date,  disputed 
ground  between  the  Pah-Utahs,  from  the  eastern 
slope,  and  the    Big  Creek    Indians,  from  the  western 


THE   FIRST  PEOPLE.  295 

slope,  who  had  several  fights,  in  which  the  Pah-Utahs 
(commonly  called  Piutes)  were  victorious.  This  state- 
ment was  made  to  the  California  Academy  of  Sciences 
by  Mr.  C.  F.  Hoffman  of  the  State  Geological  Sur- 
vey, on  the  authority  of  Joseph  Screech,  a  mountain- 
eer of  that  region ;  and  similar  statements  have  been 
made  to  the  writer  by  old  mountaineers,  with  refer- 
ence to  the  Yosemite  Valley  and  other  former  abo- 
riginal resorts  along  the  summit  of  the  Sierra.  As 
the  mountain  Indians,  and  those  of  the  Nevada  pla- 
teau, were  comparatively  nomadic  in  their  habits,  they 
left  few  or  none  of  the  large  black  mounds,  indicating 
long  and  constant  residence,  which  were  left  so  abun- 
dantly by  the  mud-hut  builders  of  the  Sacramento 
basin.  Pieces  of  bark  stripped  from  fallen  pines  or 
firs,  and  slanted  on  end  against  tree-trunks  or  poles, 
with  a  circle  of  stones  in  front  for  a  fire-place,  were 
the  usual  shelter  of  the  California  mountain  tribes, 
except  that  in  the  northern  extremity  of  the  State, 
where  the  winter  climate  is  more  rigorous,  some  of 
the    tribes  —  notably  the  Klamaths  and    their   conge- 


296  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

ners  —  built  huts  of  roughly  hewn  logs,  employing 
bark  and  brush  shelters  only  in  their  summer  fishing 
and  hunting  excursions.  Speaking  generally,  there- 
fore, the  mountain  Indians  have  left  few  traces  of 
themselves,  except  the  stone  implements  which  are 
occasionally  unearthed,  or  still  found  in  the  possession 
of  the  wretched  remnants  of  once  powerful  tribes. 

Along:  the  summit  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  there  is 
scarcely  any  memento  of  them  to  be  found,  except 
the  arrow-heads  shot  away  in  hunting  or  fighting,  or 
the  broken  arrow-heads  and  chips  from  the  same  to 
be  gathered  at  places  which  have  evidently  been  fac- 
tories of  aboriginal  weapons.  The  most  notable  find 
of  this  latter  sort  made  by  the  writer  was  at  the 
Summit  Soda  Springs,  a  most  picturesque  spot  at 
the  head  of  the  northernmost  fork  of  the  American 
River,  nine  miles  south  of  Summit  Valley  Station, 
on  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad.  Here,  at  an  eleva- 
tion of  about  six  thousand  three  hundred  feet  above 
the  sea,  the  river  breaks  through  a  tremendous  ex- 
posure  of   granite,    which    it    has    worn    into    natural 


THE   FIRST  PEOPLE.  297 

gorges  several  hundred  feet  deep,  except  where  it 
runs  rapidly  through  valley-like  glades  of  coniferous 
woods,  in  which  the  new  soil  is  covered  with  a  rank 
growth  of  grasses,  flowering  plants,  and  shrubs,  where 
the  deer  come  to  drink  at  the  salt-licks,  and  the 
piping  of  quails  is  constantly  heard,  alternating  with 
the  scolding  cry  of  jays  and  the  not  unpleasant  caw 
of  the  white-spotted  Clark  crow.  Just  in  the  rear  of 
the  public  house  kept  at  this  locality,  the  river  tum- 
bles in  slight  falls  and  cascades  over  slanting  or  per- 
pendicular walls  of  richly  colored  granite,  shaded  by 
beautiful  groves  of  cedar  and  yellow  pine,  which  grow 
in  the  clefts  of  the  rock  to  the  very  edge  of  the 
stream,  and  crown  the  dark  cliffs  above.  On  the 
rounded  tops  of  the  ledge  overlooking  these  foaming 
waters,  on  both  sides  of  the  stream,  the  Indians  used 
to  sit  fashioning  arrow-heads  and  other  weapons  of 
stone.  This  was  their  rude  but  romantic  workshop ; 
and  the  evidences  of  their  trade  are  abundant  on  the 
sloping  rock,  in  the  coarse,  granitic  soil  which  forms 
the  talus  of  the  ledge,  and  in  the  blackened  litter  of 


298  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

their  ancient  camp-fires.  They  have  left  one  record 
of  themselves  at  this  locality  which  is  quite  remark- 
able. A  shelving  ledge  of  granite  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  stream,  worn  to  an  even  and  almost  smooth 
surface  by  glaciers  or  snow-slides,  is  covered  for  a 
hundred  feet  with  rudely  scratched  characters,  circles 
or  shields  inclosing  what  may  have  been  meant  for 
animal  forms  or  other  symbols  of  expression.  They 
appear  to  have  been  cut  or  scratched  on  the  ledge 
in  comparatively  recent  times,  for  the  very  shallow 
incisions  reveal  a  fresher  rock  than  the  general  sur- 
face. The  California  Indians  are  not  known  to  have 
possessed  any  method  of  writing,  pictorial  or  oth- 
erwise ;  but  these  curious  rock  markings  may  have 
had  some  meaning  to  the  people  who  made  them. 
In  the  debris  about  this  sculptured  ledge,  as  well  as  in 
that  among  the  rocks  on  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
before  it  had  been  disturbed  by  visitors  to  the  springs, 
fragments  of  arrow-heads,  and  chips  of  the  materials 
composing  them,  could  readily  be  found.  Their  flat 
shape  and  light  specific  gravity  caused  them  to  wash 


THE  FIRST  PEOPLE.  299 

to  the  top  and  one  had  only  to  look  carefully,  lightly 
raking  with  finger  or  stick  the  superficial  gravel,  to 
find  many  curious  specimens.  In  this  peculiar  quest 
many  persons,  who  cared  nothing  for  the  scientific 
or  artistic  suggestions  of  the  simple  objects  sought, 
developed  a  strong  interest.  It  kept  them  out  of 
doors  with  nature ;  it  gave  them  a  pretext  for  re- 
maining in  the  air  by  a  lovely  scene  ;  it  aroused  that 
subtle  sympathy  which  is  excited  in  all  but  the  dull- 
est minds  by  the  evidences  of  human  association  with 
inanimate  things,  and  particularly  by  the  relics  of  a 
race  and  a  life  which  belong  to  the  past. 

The  Indians  that  congregated  at  this  point,  summer 
after  summer,  whether  from  Utah  or  California,  em- 
ployed in  arrow-head  making  every  variety  of  siliceous 
rock,  of  slate,  spar,  and  obsidian  or  volcanic  glass. 
The  larger  heads  were  made  of  slate  and  obsidian, 
which  materials  also  served  for  spear-heads,  used  in 
spearing  fish,  and  from  two  to  four  inches  long.  Ob- 
sidian seems  to  have  been  better  adapted  for  all  sorts 
of  heads  than  any  other  material.     It  could  be  shaped 


300  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

with  less  risk  of  breaking  in  the  process,  and  could 
be  chipped  to  a  much  sharper  edge  and  point.  The 
points  of  some  of  the  small  obsidian  heads  gathered 
by  the  writer  are  so  keen,  even  after  burial  or  sur- 
face floating,  that  a  slight  pressure  will  drive  them 
into  the  skin  of  the  finger.  The  greater  number  of 
small  arrow-heads  found,  as  well  as  the  greater  pro- 
portion of  the  chips,  consisted  of  jasper  and  agate, 
variously  and  beautifully  colored  and  marked ;  of  ob- 
sidian, of  chalcedony,  of  smoky  quartz  and  feldspar; 
very  rarely  of  quartz  crystal,  and  in  only  one  in- 
stance of  carnelian.  While  the  larger  heads  measure 
from  an  inch  and  a  half  to  four  inches  in  length, 
with  a  breadth  of  half  an  inch  to  an  inch  and  a 
half  in  the  widest  part,  the  smaller  heads  measure 
only  from  three  quarters  of  an  inch  to  an  inch  in 
length,  their  greatest  breadth  being  seldom  more  than 
half  an  inch.  The  latter  were  evidently  intended  for 
small  game,  such  as  birds  and  squirrels.  The  work- 
men seem  to  have  had  more  difficulty  in  making 
them,  for  they  are  often  found  broken  and  imperfect. 


THE  FIRST  PEOPLE.  301 

This  was  due,  not  only  to  their  size,  but  also  chiefly 
to  the  difference  in  material,  when  the  small  vein- 
rocks  were  used,  these  breaking  with  a  less  even 
fracture,  and  being  full  of  flaws.  Persistence  in  the 
use  of  such  uncertain  material,  when  obsidian  was 
so  much  better  adapted  to  the  purpose  and  equally 
abundant,  would  seem  to  have  been  dictated  by  a 
rudimental  taste  for  the  beautiful.  A  collection  of 
the  jasper,  chalcedony,  agate,  and  crystal  heads  and 
chips  presents  a  very  pretty  mixture  of  colors,  and  the 
tints  and  handsome  markings  of  these  rocks  could 
not  but  have  influenced  their  selection  by  the  In- 
dians, who  spent  upon  their  manipulation  an  infinite 
amount  of  care  and  patience.  It  is  interesting  to 
note  even  so  slight  an  evidence  of  taste  in  these 
savages  of  the  Sierra,  especially  when  we  remember 
it  was  supplemented  by  the  artistic  finish  they  gave 
to  their  bows  and  to  the  feathered  shaft  that  bore  the 
arrow-head,  no  less  than  to  the  quiver  of  wild  skin 
in  which  the  arrows  were  carried.  There  is  some 
reason   to    suppose    that   the   selection    of   the    above 


302  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

materials  may  occasionally  have  been  decided  by  the 
superstitious  attribution  to  them  of  occult  qualities. 
Nearly  all  aboriginal  tribes,  and  even  some  civilized 
races,  have  attached  a  peculiar  sanctity  and  potency 
to  certain  stones,  and  the  Chinese  to  this  day  give 
a  religious  significance  to  jade.  It  is  uncertain,  how- 
ever, to  what  extent  such  notions  obtained  among,  and 
influenced  the  simple  savages  of  California.  None 
of  the  rocks  used  at  this  Indian  workshop  were  ob- 
tained in  the  locality.  The  writer  was  able  to  trace 
their  origin  to  Lake  Tahoe,  across  the  western  crest 
of  the  Sierra,  and  not  less  than  twelve  or  fifteen 
miles  from  the  Soda  Springs  by  any  possible  trail. 
There  they  are  so  abundant  as  to  have  partly  formed 
the  beautiful  gravel  beach  for  which  the  lake  is  so 
famous.  The  obsidian  came  from  the  ancient  cra- 
ters that  adjoin  the  lake,  the  source  of  those  enor- 
mous ridges  of  volcanic  material  which  form  its  out- 
let, the  canon  of  Truckee  River.  Doubtless  the  flints, 
slates,  and  obsidian  of  this  region  formed  objects 
of    barter    with    the   lower    country  Indians ;    for   the 


THE  FIRST  PEOPLE.  303 

writer  remembers  seeing  arrow-heads  of  such  material 
among  the  Sacramento  Valley  tribes  twenty-five  years 
ago.  On  the  Lake  Tahoe  beaches  are  sometimes 
found  spear-heads  five  inches  long,  with  perhaps  an 
inch  of  their  original  length  broken  off,  generally  at 
the  barbed  end.  Similar  materials  were  used  and  to 
some  extent  are  still  used  by  the  mountain  Indians 
in  the  northern  Sierra  as  far  as  Mount  Shasta,  the 
rocks  of  the  crest  furnishing  them  everywhere  along 
the  line  of  volcanic  peaks  which  dominate  the  range. 
In  the  Coast  Range  supplies  of  obsidian  were  ob- 
tained by  the  northern  tribes  from  the  region  about 
Clear  Lake,  where  there  is  an  entire  mountain  of 
this  material.  The  antiquity  and  former  great  num- 
ber of  the  tribes  in  this  region  are  attested  by  the 
wash  of  obsidian  arrow  and  spear-heads,  flakes  and 
chips,  about  the  shore  of  the  lake.  The  beach  at  the 
lower  end  is  fairly  shingled  with  them.  About  the 
flanks  of  Mount  Shasta,  especially  on  the  McCloud 
River  side,  obsidian  is  again  very  plentiful,  and,  with 
some    beautifully   variegated   jaspers,    seems    to    have 


304  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

been  most  used.  The  writer  found  extensive  chip- 
pings  of  it  at  several  points  on  the  head-waters  of 
the  Sacramento,  notably  at  Bailey's  Soda  Springs, 
thirteen  miles  south  of  Strawberry  Valley,  where  the 
Castle  Rocks  —  fantastic  crags  of  granite  —  push  up 
through  the  slates  and  lavas  of  the  neighborhood  two 
thousand  five  hundred  feet  above  the  river.  Here, 
as  at  the  Summit  Soda  Springs,  the  Indians  had 
chosen  one  of  the  most  charmingly  picturesque  spots 
for  an  arrow-head  factory.  But  here,  as  elsewhere, 
something  else  than  an  instinct  for  the  beautiful 
moved  them  in  their  choice  of  locality.  There  is 
fine  trout  and  salmon  fishing  in  the  river,  while  there 
are  no  fish  at  all  in  the  upper  North  American,  near 
the  Summit  Springs,  owing  to  the  falls  which  prevent 
fish  from  ascending. 

Again,  the  snow-fall  is  not  so  great  on  the  Sacra- 
mento as  to  drive  the  Indians  away  in  the  winter.  Its 
banks  are  their  preferred  home  at  all  seasons.  There 
they  still  fish  and  hunt,  and  are  more  nearly  in  a 
primitive  condition    than  their  kindred  farther  south, 


THE   FIRST  PEOPLE.  305 

who  are  now  few  in  number  and  more  or  less  do- 
mesticated with  the  whites.  Since  the  Indians  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada  came  into  familiar  contact  with  the 
whites,  they  have  adopted  fire-arms  in  preference  to 
bows  and  arrows,  when  they  can  obtain  them,  and, 
where  they  retain  the  latter,  now  generally  use  metal 
or  artificial  glass  in  making  arrow  or  spear  heads.  In 
a  great  measure,  also,  they  have  abandoned  the  use 
of  the  stone-mortars  employed  for  so  many  years  by 
their  ancestors,  and  which  about  Mount  Shasta,  as 
perhaps  in  other  volcanic  regions,  were  made  of  tra- 
chyte, as  certain  other  implements  were  made  of  red 
lava. 

It  may  increase  the  interest  of  this  sketch  to  de- 
scribe the  method  used  in  the  manufacture  of  arrow- 
heads, which  was  the  first  trade  of  primitive  man. 
Mr.  E.  G.  Waite,  in  a  paper  contributed  to  the 
"  Overland  Monthly,"  described  as  follows  the  process 
he  saw  in  use  among  the  Indians  of  central  and 
northern  California,  in  the  early  days  of  American 
settlement.     The  rock  of   flint  or   obsidian,  esteemed 


306  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

by  the  natives  for  arrow-pointing,  is  first  broken  into 
flat  pieces,  and  then  wrought  into  shape  after  this 
fashion :  "  The  palm  of  the  left  hand  is  covered  by 
buckskin,  held  in  its  place  by  the  thumb  being  thrust 
through  a  hole  in  it.  The  inchoate  arrow-head  is  laid 
on  this  pad  along  the  thick  of  the  thumb,  the  points 
of  the  fingers  pressing  it  firmly  down.  The  instru- 
ment used  to  shape  the  stone  is  the  end  of  a  deer's 
antler,  from  four  to  six  inches  in  length,  held  in  the 
right  hand.  The  small  round  point  of  this  is  judi- 
ciously pressed  upward  on  the  edge  of  the  stone, 
cleaving  it  away  underward  in  small  scales.  The 
arrow-head  is  frequently  turned  around  and  over  to 
cleave  away  as  much  from  one  side  as  the  other,  and 
give  it  the  desired  size  and  shape.  It  is  a  work  of 
no  little  care  and  skill  to  make  even  so  rude  an  in- 
strument as  an  arrow-head  seems  to  be,  only  the 
most  expert  being  successful  at  the  business.  Old 
men  are  usually  seen  at  this  employment.  This  man- 
ufacture of  arrow-heads  by  a  primitive  people  readily 
suggests  the  origin  of  trade.     In  the  earlier  stages  of 


THE   FIRST  PEOPLE.  2>°7 

human  development,  when  man  wore  a  skull  of  the 
Neanderthal  type,  the  maker  of  the  best  weapons  was 
the  most  successful  in  coping  with  the  cave  bear, 
hyena,  and  other  animals  of  the  period.  His  arrow- 
heads and  other  arms  of  stone  were  models.  Super- 
stition invested  them  also  with  an  infallible  gift  to 
kill.  His  well  shaped  and  charmed  weapons  would 
be  sought  after.  Suppose  this  ancient  troglodyte  and 
mighty  Nimrod  should  be  wounded  and  crippled  for 
life  in  one  of  his  fierce  encounters  with  formidable 
beasts,  what  would  self-preservation  demand,  what 
would  be  the  unanimous  voice  of  his  tribe,  but  that 
he  must  become  the  armorer  for  the  whole  ?  What 
better  could  he  do  than  fashion  the  arms  that  would 
furnish  the  most  food  for  himself,  his  family,  his  kind  ? 
'  Bring  me,  then,'  he  would  say,  '  a  certain  share  of 
the  fruits  of  the  chase,  and  I  will  give  you  the  instru- 
ments that  yield  the  surest  rewards.'  Here,  then,  a 
skilled  artisan  began  his  workshop,  the  chips  of  which 
in  piles  survive  him  by  thousands  of  years  in  the 
caves  of  the  old  world.     Thus  barter  began,  and  man, 


308  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

little  by  little  engaged  in  diversity  of  employment,  ac- 
cording to  natural  or  acquired  abilities."  The  method 
of  finishing  arrow-heads  described  by  Mr.  Waite  as 
prevailing  among  the  California  Indians  is  substan- 
tially the  same  as  that  observed  by  A.  W.  Chase  of 
the  United  States  Coast  Survey,  among  the  Kla- 
maths  so  recently  as  1873.  A  drawing  made  by  him 
of  the  implement  used  by  the  artisan  of  this  tribe 
closely  resembles  the  figure  of  such  an  implement 
given  in  Tylor's  work  on  prehistoric  art  in  Europe. 
Catlin  describes  a  similar  method  and  instrument  in 
use  among  the  tribes  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
They  broke  a  cobble  of  flint  with  a  rounded  peb- 
ble of  horn-stone  set  in  a  twisted  withe  as  a  handle, 
then  selected  such  pieces  as  from  the  angles  of  their 
fracture  and  thickness  would  answer  as  a  basis  of  an 
arrow-head.  The  finishing  process  is  described  as  fol- 
lows :  "  The  master  workman,  seated  on  the  ground, 
lays  one  of  these  flakes  on  the  palm  of  his  left  hand, 
holding  it  firmly  down  with  two  or  more  fingers  of 
the  same  hand,  and  with  his  right  hand,  between  the 


THE  FIRST  PEOPLE.  309 

thumb  and  two  forefingers,  place  his  chisel  or  punch 
(made  of  bone)  on  the  point  that  is  to  be  broken  off; 
and  a  cooperator  (a  striker)  sitting  in  front  of  him, 
with  a  mallet  of  very  hard  wood,  strikes  the  chisel  or 
punch  on  the  upper  end,  flaking  the  flint  off  on  the 
under  side,  below  each  projecting  point  that  is  struck. 
The  flint  is  turned  and  chipped  until  the  required 
shape  and  dimensions  are  obtained,  all  the  fractures 
being  made  on  the  palm  of  the  hand.'1  This  is  more 
elaborate  than  the  California  method,  which  was  car- 
ried on  by  a  single  workman.  Catlin  also  describes 
his  two  artisans  as  singing  exactly  in  time  with  the 
strokes  of  the  mallet.  Leaving  out  the  minor  differ- 
ences, there  is  a  strong  likeness  in  all  the  primitive 
methods  and  implements  the  world  over,  showing  the 
instinctive  readiness  of  the  race  to  originate  independ- 
ently the  same  methods  and  forms  under  the  same 
circumstances. 

Going  back  to  the  days  before  the  pale-face  invaded 
their  land,  one  can  easily  recall  groups  of  California 
aborigines,  seated   on  the   picturesque  lake  and    river 


310  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

spots  chosen  for  their  homes  or  summer  resorts,  sort- 
ing out  the  beautiful  stones  they  had  procured  for 
arrow-heads,  and  chipping  away  slowly  as  they  chat- 
ted and  laughed,  while  the  river  sang,  or  the  cataract 
brawled,  or  the  pine  woods  soughed,  as  musically  and 
kindly  to  them  as  to  us. 


SONG   OF   THE   VAQUERO. 


A  life  on  the  prairie  long  and  wide, 
Where  the  wild  oats  roll  in  golden  tide, 
And  the  hills  are  blue  on  either  side. 

A  life  on  the  fleet  and  eager  steed, 
With  strain  of  Arab  in  his  breed, 
Circling  around  the  herd  as  they  feed. 

A  life  as  free  as  the  air  I  drink, 

That  flows  like  wine  from  the  bubbling  brink 

Of  glasses  that  touch  in  social  drink. 

Ha !    With  a  toss  of  my  lasso  true, 
The  stoutest  bull  of  the  herd  I  threw, 
As  over  the  vale  he  wildly  flew. 


312  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

Ha  !    When  the  grizzly  ventured  afield, 
Leaving  the  shelter  chaparrals  yield, 
He  fell  a  prey  to  the  loop  I  wield. 

Ha !    With  a  skill  that  was  surer  yet, 

I  flung  my  terrible  lariat, 

And  dragged  to  his  death  the  foe  I  met. 

Juanita  smiles  as  I  gallop  by ; 

Soft  is  the  light  of  her  darkling  eye, 

And  red  is  her  lip  as  the  berry's  dye. 

Juanita  smiles,  for  she  knows  the  hand 
That  flies  the  lasso,  and  the  marking  brand 
With  equal  skill  can  the  lute  command. 

Juanita  smiles,  for  she  knows  the  time 
Is  fixed,  for  the  Mission's  wedding  chime 
When  the  rain  has  brought  the  flowers  prime. 

Then  the  glad  festa's  joy  will  begin, 
The  Castanet  and  guitar's  sweet  din, 
As  the  neighbors  all  come  trooping  in. 


SONG    OF  THE    VAQUERO.  313 

Then  will  the  dancers  happily  beat 
The  waltz  of  Castile  with  lightsome  feet, 
While  horsemen  race  in  the  contest  fleet. 

Then  life  will  be  sweet  to  groom  and  bride, 
Where  the  wild  oats  roll  their  golden  tide, 
And  the  hills  are  blue  on  either  side. 


THE   TRINITY   DIAMOND. 


It  was  a  hot  June  day  in  1850,  when  we  started, 
Brandy  and  I,  from  the  American  River,  where  we 
had  been  for  nearly  a  year  unsuccessfully  mining,  to 
seek  our  fortunes  on  the  Trinity.  A  tramp  of  three 
hundred  miles,  through  a  lonely  valley  and  over  rug- 
ged mountains,  lay  before  us ;  but  we  were  full  of 
pluck  and  strength.  Glowing  reports  had  reached 
us  from  the  far  north,  and  we  liked  adventure.  The 
country  was  new,  strange,  and  unpeopled.  It  seemed 
as  foreign  to  us  as  the  West  Indies  and  Mexico  did 
to  the  Spanish  adventurers  under  Columbus  and  Cor- 
tez,  and  we  had  the  same  golden  dreams  that  lured 
those  pioneers,  tinging  all  our  future  with  blissful 
hopes.     Imagine    two    young   fellows,    with    unkempt 


THE    TRINITY  DIAMOND.  315 

locks,  under  broad-brimmed  felt  hats  of  a  drab  color, 
clad  in  gray  woolen  shirts,  and  blue  dungaree  trou- 
sers —  the  latter  held  up  by  a  leather  belt  about  the 
waist,  and  tucked  into  long-legged  boots,  the  belt 
itself  holding  a  sheath-knife,  revolver,  tin  drinking- 
cup,  and  rubber  flask ;  on  their  backs  neatly  bundled 
blankets,  strapped  across  their  shoulders,  and  inclos- 
ing a  small  package  of  raw  pork,  sea-biscuit,  and  tea, 
while  over  each  bundle  lay,  bottom  up,  a  large  tin 
pan,  glistening  in  the  sun,  and  suggesting  visions 
of  the  dairy  and  rural  homes  far  away.  There  you 
have  the  portraits  of  two  prospectors.  We  belonged 
to  the  noble  army  of  explorers  that  found  and  opened 
the  treasure-vaults  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  and  Rocky 
Mountains ;  that  planted  the  seeds  of  empire  from 
the  upper  Missouri  to  the  Pacific  ;  that  whitened 
western  seas  and  streams  with  the  sails  of  a  new 
commerce,  laid  an  iron  road  across  the  continent, 
and  aroused  the  sluggish  civilization  of  Asia  to  new 
motives.  Those  heroes  of  the  pick  and  pan  were 
not  romantic  figures ;  their  triumphs  were  not  bloody 


316  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

ones ;  but  see  what  they  achieved  for  the  world,  and 
cease  to  despise  them  if  they  failed  to  achieve  much 
for  themselves. 

As  for  Brandy  and  I,  we  trudged  on,  chatting, 
whistling,  and  singing,  intent  on  finding  virgin  gold- 
beds  far  from  the  crowded  placers  we  had  left.  We 
had  read  Humboldt ;  had  traced  the  gold  formation 
through  South  and  Central  America  and  Mexico  to 
California;  fancied  it  must  link  farther  north  with 
that  in  Siberia,  and  the  Ural  Chain,  and  were  resolved 
to  push  even  beyond  the  Trinity,  if  that  stream  did 
not  enrich  us  speedily.  Our  mining  implements,  a 
tent,  some  cooking  utensils,  a  few  clothes,  and  sev- 
eral months'  supply  of  salt  meat  and  flour,  we  had 
sent  ahead  in  a  wagon  to  Reading's  Springs,  in  the 
Shasta  Hills,  whence  they  were  to  be  transferred  by 
pack-mules  to  Trinity  River  on  our  arrival.  The 
scanty  provisions  we  carried  on  our  backs  we  ex- 
pected to  eke  out  with  occasional  meals  at  the  ran- 
chos  along  the  Sacramento  River.  One  of  us  carried 
a  rifle,  for   protection    against   any  unfriendly   Indian 


THE    TRINITY  DIAMOND.  3  I  7 

or  savage  beast  that  might  obstruct  our  way.  Thus 
equipped  we  pushed  ahead,  averaging  thirty  miles  a 
day  with  ease.  The  level  valley  was  covered  with  a 
ripening  growth  of  wild  oats,  and  looked  like  a  vast 
harvest-field,  bounded  on  one  side  by  the  purple  wall 
of  the  Coast  Range,  on  the  other  by  the  hazy  out- 
lines of  the  more  distant  Sierra,  and  ahead  only  by 
the  dazzling  sky,  save  where  an  occasional  grove  of 
oaks  marked  a  bend  or  branch  of  the  river,  and 
loomed  up  in  the  hot,  shimmering  air,  with  an  effect 
as  if  a  silvery  sheet  of  water  flooded  its  site.  It  was 
a  lovely  spectacle,  as  this  sea  of  grain,  in  places  as 
high  as  our  heads,  waved  its  yellowing  surface  like  a 
true  ocean.  The  road  through  it  was  not  well  de- 
fined after  we  left  Knight's  Landing,  and  we  wan- 
dered off  by  Indian  trails  far  from  the  river ;  so  that, 
on  one  occasion,  we  traveled  sixty  miles  before  meet- 
ing with  water  fit  to  drink.  A  few  pools,  the  rem- 
nants of  the  previous  winter's  flood,  were  found  in 
hollows  of  blue,  clayey  soil,  hot,  putrescent,  and  sick- 
ening.    At  one  such    place,  where  a  lone  tree  broke 


3 1 8  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

the  monotony  of  the  plain,  the  air  was  populous  with 
dragon-flies  of  great  size  and  brilliant  colors,  whose 
gauzy  wings  often  touched  our  hands  and  faces,  while 
swarms  of  yellow  hornets  hovered  over  the  mud  and 
myriads  of  mosquitoes  hummed  their  maddening  song. 
A  few  yellow  blossoms  still  flaunted  their  beauty  on 
the  spot,  though  most  of  the  plants  had  been  tram- 
pled down  by  thirsty  cattle.  We  pushed  on  till  late 
in  the  night,  then  spread  our  blankets  on  the  earth, 
and,  regardless  of  the  coyotes  that  barked  querulously 
around  us,  slept  under  a  roof  of  splendid  stars. 

What  a  delight  it  was,  after  a  hot  tramp,  to  reach  a 
clear,  pebbly  creek,  to  drink  and  bathe  in  its  waters, 
and  then,  under  a  grove  of  noble  oaks  trellised  with 
vines,  to  drink  from  the  adjoining  rancho,  and  eat 
blackberries  picked  by  the  Indians  along  the  stream. 
At  that  time  the  settlements  on  the  upper  Sacra- 
mento were  few  and  far  between.  They  consisted 
of  an  adobe  house  or  two,  tenanted  by  a  family  of 
mixed  races,  the  man  being  an  American  or  Euro- 
pean, the  woman  a  Mexican  or  Kanaka ;    while  near 


THE    TRINITY  DIAMOND.  3  1 9 

by  were  the  earthen  huts  of  a  few  amiable  Digger 
Indians,  who  did  the  fishing  and  hunting,  and  most 
of  the  farm-work,  satisfied  with  blankets,  coffee  and 
sugar,  and  a  few  old  clothes,  for  their  wages.  These 
ranchos  were  usually  on  the  bank  of  the  Sacramento 
or  some  confluent,  and  were  stocked  with  large  herds 
of  half-wild  cattle.  Some  of  them  became  the  sites 
of  towns  at  a  later  day.  Their  owners  were  very 
hospitable  to  the  few  adventurers  who  called  on  them 
before  the  grand  rush  to  the  northern  mines  set  in, 
and  I  often  recall  their  hearty  words  and  homely 
cheer  with  gratitude. 

One  night  we  stopped  at  a  log  cabin  lately  built 
by  Missouri  squatters.  As  we  neared  it,  some  time 
after  dark,  we  heard  the  sound  of  a  fiddle,  went  to 
the  open  doorway,  and  looked  in.  There  was  a  rude 
bar  garnished  with  a  few  black  bottles.  At  one  end 
of  the  bar  sat  the  fiddler  upon  a  keg,  while  a  num- 
ber of  stout  fellows  in  buckskin  were  leaning-  on  the 
bar,  or  against  the  log  walls.  Presently  a  tall,  broad- 
shouldered    man  in  a  butternut  suit  opened  a  rough 


320  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

"  shake  "  door  leading  into  a  second  apartment,  and 
shouted,  "  Gentlemen,  make  way  for  the  ladies ! " 
At  this  he  led  forth  a  female  who  was  "fat  and 
forty,"  but  hardly  fair,  —  a  very  short  and  plump 
person,  clad  in  plain  calico,  her  face  shining  as  if  it 
had  been  oiled,  her  eyes  bright  with  laughter.  Be- 
hind her  came  a  thin  girl  of  ten  or  twelve  years, 
who  bore  traces  of  a  recent  struggle  with  fever  and 
ague,  and  whose  yellow  hair  hung  down  in  two  big 
braids,  tied  with  blue  ribbons.  There  was  to  be  a 
dance,  and  these  were  the  ladies.  The  fiddler  struck 
up  "  The  Arkansas  Traveler,"  and  the  ball  began. 
Of  course  every  gentleman  had  to  wait  his  turn  for 
a  partner,  except  as  they  made  what  were  called 
"  stag  couples."  It  must  be  said  that  the  ladies  were 
compliant  and  enduring.  They  danced  with  every- 
body and  nearly  all  the  time.  They  even  invited 
the  "  stranger  "  at  their  gate  to  "  take  a  turn,"  —  an 
invitation  that  youthful  modesty  alone  caused  us  to 
decline.  When  we  went  to  sleep  under  the  big  oak 
fronting   the   cabin,  the    rasping   tones    of   the    back- 


THE    TRINITY  DIAMOND.  32 1 

woods  fiddler  were  still  heard,  as  also  the  clat-clat 
of  the  loose  planks  on  the  cabin  floor  keeping  time. 
At  last  we  reached  Reading's  Springs,  —  a  famous 
mining  camp  in  those  days,  which  has  since  grown 
into  the  town  of  Shasta.  Here  we  gave  the  charge  of 
our  outfit  to  the  Mexican  owners  of  a  pack-train,  and 
started  with  them  across  the  mountains  for  Trinity 
River.  The  train  consisted  of  about  thirty  mules ; 
and  we  helped  to  drive  them  over  a  narrow  trail 
which  had  been  marked  out  with  no  regard  to  easy 
gradients.  The  heavily  laden  brutes  grunted  and 
groaned  as  they  tugged  up  the  steep,  conical  hills 
between  Shasta  and  Trinity  Mountain.  They  would 
often  run  off  into  the  woods,  and  then  the  shouts  and 
curses  of  the  Mexicans,  although  in  mellow  Spanish, 
were  startling  to  the  very  trees  and  rocks.  But  the 
hardships  of  the  trip  only  gave  a  keener  zest  to  our 
enjoyment  of  the  mountain  air  and  water,  so  deli- 
cious after  our  experience  in  the  valley ;  of  the  luxu- 
riant and  varied  vegetation,  the  aromatic  odors  of 
the   pines,  the    music    of   rippling    brooks,    the    dizzy 


322  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

glimpses  of  vaporous  canons  yawning  below,  the  noble 
vistas  of  far  peaks  as  we  climbed  higher  and  higher, 
and  sat  with  beating  hearts  and  white  lips  on  the 
summit  of  Trinity  Mountain.  Descending  this  ele- 
vation, we  reached  the  river  of  our  hopes,  followed 
its  course  to  the  North  Fork,  and  pitched  our  tent 
under  a  tall  yellow  pine  on  the  bar  below  the  mouth 
of  that  stream.  Trinity  River  is  a  cold  nymph  of 
the  hills.  All  its  course  is  through  the  tumultuous 
peaks  that  mark  the  blending  of  the  northern  Sierra 
and  Coast  Range  ;  and  it  has  always  a  touch  of  its 
native  ice.  Whirling  through  rocky  canons  with 
foam  and  roar;  darkened  by  overhanging  precipices, 
by  interlacing  pine  and  fir,  or  hanging  vines ;  gliding 
into  narrow  valleys,  that  margin  it  with  meadows  and 
tremulous-leaved  cotton-woods,  and  spreading  out  in 
broader  bottoms  to  coax  the  sun,  —  it  is  still  the  same 
cold  stream,  until  it  reaches  the  literally  golden  sands 
of  its  ocean  outlet  through  the  Klamath.  When 
we  saw  it  in  1850,  it  was  beautifully  clear,  and  its 
wooded  banks  were  wildly  picturesque.     Hardly  more 


THE    TRINITY  DIAMOND.  323 

than  fifty  miners  were  trying  to  tear  the  golden  se- 
cret from  its  breast,  and  the  emptyings  from  their 
rockers  did  not  sully  its  purity.  Indians  fished  in 
it,  and  the  deadly  combats  of  the  male  salmon  often 
sent  free  offerings  to  their  hands.  The  miners  them- 
selves would  sometimes  watch  these  finny  tragedies, 
and  swim  after  the  vanquished  lover  for  their  dinner. 
It  was  a  new  sensation  to  strike  our  picks  into  the 
virgin  cobble-beds,  among  tuft  grass  and  thickets  of 
rose-brier ;  to  overturn  gray  boulders,  never  disturbed 
before  ;  to  shovel  up  from  the  soft  bed-rock  the  gold- 
seeded  gravel  that  promised  a  harvest  of  comfort  and 
happiness.  It  was  pleasant  to  have  our  sweating  toil 
eased  by  the  cool  breezes  that  daily  blew  up  from  the 
sea ;  though  when  one  of  these  breezes  became  a  gale, 
tossed  the  coals  from  our  camp-fire  into  our  poor 
tent,  and  lighted  a  flame  that  consumed  our  shelter 
and  supplies,  making  the  rifle  and  pistols  fire  an  irreg- 
ular salute,  the  sea  wind  was  not  blessed.  The  near- 
est trading-post  was  ten  miles  below,  at  Big  Bar ;  and 
a  weary  journey  it  was,  over  a  lofty  mountain,  to  reach 


324  CALIFORNIA^  PICTURES. 

it,  while  all  that  we  bought  had  to  be  packed  on  our 
own  backs.  Beef-cattle  were  lowered  down  the  steep 
descent  by  the  aid  of  ropes,  and  their  flesh  was  pre- 
cious. The  butcher  of  Big  Flat  was  an  eccentric 
Yankee.  As  meat  was  fifty  cents  a  pound,  the  por- 
tions without  bone  were  in  great  demand,  for  econom- 
ical reasons.  Liver  was  in  particular  request.  As  it 
was  impossible  to  find  an  ox  all  liver,  and  the  Stras- 
bourg goose-fattening  process  would  not  apply  to  cat- 
tle, our  butcher  was  obliged  to  adopt  some  plan  to 
relieve  himself  of  a  difficulty.  It  was  his  habit,  when 
a  customer  asked  for  liver,  to  inquire,  "  Have  you  a 
canvas-patch  where  you  sit  down  ? "  And  when  the 
customer  would  naturally  respond,  "  Why,  what 's  that 
got  to  do  with  it  ?  "  he  would  answer,  philosophically, 
"  If  you  have  n't  got  a  patch  on  your  breeches,  you 
can't  have  any  liver ;  that 's  what.  There  is  n't  liver 
enough  for  everybody  ;  there 's  got  to  be  something 
to  discriminate  by,  and  it  might  as  well  be  a  canvas- 
patch  as  anything  else."  And  to  this  impartial  rule 
he  faithfully  adhered,  albeit  canvas-patches    began  to 


THE    TRINITY  DIAMOND.  325 

multiply,  and  other  parts  of  the  animal  economy,  like 
the  heart,  had  to  be  pressed  into  service. 

On  the  bar  where  Brandy  and  I  opened  a  claim 
and  started  our  rockers  only  three  more  men  were 
working.  They  owned  and  operated  in  common  a 
large  quicksilver  machine.  We  soon  knew  them  as 
Peter  the  Dane,  English  George,  and  Missouri.  The 
nomenclature  of  the  early  mining  epoch  was  original 
and  descriptive.  Individuals,  like  places,  were  named 
in  a  way  to  indicate  peculiar  traits  or  circumstances. 
Thus,  my  partner,  Brandy,  whose  real  name  was  Wil- 
liam, —  a  slender,  fair-skinned,  blue-eyed  fellow,  of 
temperate  habits,  —  had  a  high  color  in  his  cheeks 
that  a  rough  comrade  called  a  brandy-blush.  The 
joke  was  too  good  not  to  live,  and  so  the  name  of 
Brandy  clung  to  him  for  years,  being  varied  occa- 
sionally to  Cognac,  by  way  of  elegant  euphemism. 
Our  Trinity  River  neighbors  were  all  named  from 
their  nativity,  the  signs  of  which  they  bore  plainly  in 
speech  and  looks. 

Peter  had    served    in  the    navies    of    three    nations, 


326  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

ending  with  the  United  States.  He  was  a  young 
man  of  cultivation  and  genius ;  kept  a  journal  in 
Greek,  to  conceal  its  secrets  from  his  comrades  before 
the. mast;  acquired  English  from  the  library  of  the 
man-of-war  Ohio  ;  had  a  good  knowledge  of  our  liter- 
ature ;  spoke  French  and  German  well ;  was  a  clever 
draftsman  and  musician,  and  a  witty,  brilliant  talker. 
But  he  was  only  Peter  the  Dane,  except,  indeed,  when 
called  "  Dutch  Pete  "  by  a  class  of  Americans  who 
think  everybody  Dutch  (or  German)  who  says  "ja." 
We  sympathized  on  the  subject  of  poetry  and  music. 
Indeed,  it  was  my  whistling  "  Casta  Diva,"  while  rock- 
ing the  cradle,  that  made  us  acquainted.  He  used 
to  recite  poems  from  the  Danish  of  Oehlenschlager, 
which  I  would  render  into  English  verse.  He  went 
through  "  Hakon  Jarl "  in  that  way  —  the  recitation 
at  night  by  our  camp-fire,  the  pines  soughing  over- 
head, the  river  roaring  below ;  a  truly  appropriate 
scene  for  a  Norse  epic.  The  ink  to  write  out  my 
translation  I  made  from  the  juice  of  ripe  elder  ber- 
ries.    One  night   Peter  and   I  went  to    Big   Bar,  and 


THE    TRINITY  DIAMOND.  327 

crossed  the  river  by  crawling  over  the  branched  top 
of  an  Indian  fish-dam,  on  our  hands  and  knees,  to 
hear  a  violin  that  somebody  owned  in  that  wild  place. 
The  night  was  so  pitchy  dark  that  we  could  not  see 
the  white  foam  on  the  rapids  around  us  ;  and  we  did 
not  know  what  a  fool-hardy  feat  we  had  performed 
till   the  next  day. 

George  was  a  simple-minded,  ignorant  Englishman, 
credulous  and  kind-hearted,  who  had  made  a  voyage 
or  two,  when  he  heard  of  the  gold  discovery,  worked 
his  passage  to  San  Francisco,  and  had  drifted  up  to 
the  Trinity,  in  eager  quest  of  a  fortune  for  his  old  par- 
ents and  his  sweetheart  in  England.  He  was  a  good 
worker,  and  a  good  listener.  It  was  curious  that  two 
such  men  should  come  together ;  more  curious  they 
should  have  for  a  partner  Missouri,  —  familiarly  called 
"  Misery,"  —  a  lank,  sallow  man,  with  long,  straight, 
yellow  hair,  tobacco  -  oozing  mouth,  broad  Western 
speech,  a  habit  of  exaggeration  that  was  always  aston- 
ishing, and  a  cold  selfishness  that  he  took  no  pains 
to  conceal.     My  partner,  Brandy,  had  been  a  dentist 


328  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

in  New  York,  was  still  ready  to  pull  or  fill  a  tooth, 
and  enjoyed  as  much  as  others  the  tones  of  his  rich 
baritone  voice  in  laugh  or  song. 

These  comprised  the  company  that  used  to  meet 
about  a  common  fire  at  night,  smoke  their  pipes  to- 
gether, talk  of  home  and  its  friends,  exchange  ex- 
periences, tell  stories,  sing  songs,  and  crack  jokes  at 
one  another's  expense.  Peter  used  to  tell  of  his  ad- 
ventures at  sea ;  often  with  so  much  humor  that  we 
laughed  till  our  sides  ached.  "  Misery "  related  his 
adventures  with  "  bars "  and  "  Injins,"  and  told  us 
how  he  "made  things  bile"  when  he  mined  at  Hang- 
town,  where  the  gold  poured  down  his  "  Tom  "  in 
"  a  yaller  stream."  Brandy  used  to  sing  "  The  Old 
Folks  at  Home,"  until  the  tears  came  into  all  eyes 
but  Missouri's  though  even  he  grew  quiet  under  its 
influence.  From  how  many  thousand  mining-camps, 
in  early  years,  —  before  daily  mails,  telegraphs,  and 
Pacific  Railroad,  —  went  up  that  song  of  the  heart, 
with  its  tender,  refining,  and  saving  influence !  Well 
might  old  Fletcher  say,  "  Let  me  make  the  songs  of 
a  nation,  and  I  care  not  who  makes  its  laws." 


THE    TRINITY  DIAMOND.  329 

Sometimes  we  got  into  controversies  —  not  on  pol- 
itics, for  we  never  saw  newspapers  nor  heard  politi- 
cians ;  nor  on  religion,  for  we  did  not  know  certainly 
what  day  was  Sunday,  nor  care  for  creeds,  so  long  as 
men  were  honest  and  kind.  But  literary  memories, 
and  subjects  connected  with  our  daily  life,  would  pro- 
voke talk  enough.  One  night  I  wondered  if  there 
might  not  be  diamonds  in  the  gold  deposits  of  Cali- 
fornia —  why  not  along  Trinity  River  ?  I  had  found 
some  very  small  rubies. 

"  Oh,"  said  Peter,  "  they  are  likely  enough  to  be 
found,  if  we  would  only  look  for  them.  I  have  fan- 
cied them  rolling  off  the  hopper  of  our  machine 
many  a  time.  They  have  been  found  in  the  mines  of 
the  Ural,  and  I  was  even  told  of  small  ones  being 
found  in  the  southern  dry  diggings  of  California. 
You  know  something  about  precious  stones,  Brandy, 
what  do  you  think  ?  "  Brandy  rejoined :  "  It  is  true 
the  diamond  is  found  in  gold  formations,  associated 
with  clay  or  drift,  as  in  Brazil,  Georgia,  and  North 
Carolina.       The    most   famous    district    is    Golconda, 


330  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

Hindostan.  In  the  rough,  the  stone  looks  like  a 
quartz  pebble,  or  one  of  the  bits  of  rounded  glass 
found  on  sea-beaches  near  cities.  Unless  a  person 
was  familiar  with  its  appearance  in  this  state,  he 
would  surely  throw  it  away  as  worthless.  If  it  was 
fractured  and  of  good  size  it  might  attract  attention 
by  its  lustre,  and  be  saved  by  one  ignorant  of  its  real 
nature  as  a  pretty  stone." 

George  listened  to  this  speech  with  unusual  inter- 
est. Missouri  declared  his  intention  to  look  out  for 
ground  pebbles  "  mighty  sharp  "  after  this. 

Brandy  added  that  diamonds  were  sometimes  found 
in  connection  with  oxide  of  iron,  and  might  have 
a  metallic  look  on  their  rough  surface  ;  and  at  this 
George  gave  him  a  quick,  keen  glance. 

"  Well,  it  would  pay  better  to  find  a  big  diamond 
than  a  gold-mine,"  said  Peter.  "  Napoleon  had  a  sin- 
gle diamond  in  the  hilt  of  his  sword  of  state  that 
was  worth  a  million  dollars.  It  weighed  four  hun- 
dred and  ten  carats.  The  Braganza  diamond  weighs 
sixteen  hundred  and  eighty  grains,  and  is  valued  at 
twenty-eight  million  dollars." 


THE    TRINITY  DIAMOND.  331 

Here  "  Misery  "  gave  a  long  whistle,  followed  by 
a  yelping  laugh,  and  the  characteristic  exclamation, 
"  That  takes  my  pile." 

"  How  big  are  diamonds  found  ?  "  asked  George, 
after  the  laughter  excited  by  the  Missourian's  racy 
expression  of  incredulity  had  subsided. 

"  Oh,  half  the  size  of  an  egg ;  as  big  as  a  walnut, 
sometimes,"  said   Brandy,  rather  wildly. 

"  As  big  as  a  piece  of  chalk,"  added  "  Misery," 
with  a  leer  that  let  out  the  tobacco-juice. 

Peter  remembered  that  Empress  Catherine  of  Rus- 
sia bouoht  of  a  Greek  merchant  a  diamond  as  laroe 
as  a  pigeon's  egg,  which  had  formed  the  eye  of  an  idol 
in  India.  A  French  soldier  stole  it  from  the  pagoda, 
and  sold  it  for  a  trifle.  ("  What  a  dumb  fool  ! "  in- 
terposed Missouri.)  The  Greek  got  four  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars  for  it,  an  annuity  of  twenty 
thousand  dollars,  and  a  title  of  nobility. 

George's  eyes  dilated.  I  had  never  seen  him  tak- 
ing so  much  interest  in  any  conversation. 

"  Ah  !  if  we  could  only  find  the  other  eye?"  I  sug- 
gested, "  we  might  all  quit  this  slavish  work." 


332  CALIF0RN1AN  PICTURES. 

"  That  reminds  me,"  struck  in  Peter,  "  that  it  is 
the  custom  in  Brazil  to  liberate  a  negro  who  finds  a 
diamond  of  over  seventeen  and  a  half  carats.  The 
search  there  is  followed  by  some  thousands  of  slaves 
digging  like  us.  Since  we  must  dig  anyhow,  why 
not  keep  a  keen  eye  on  the  hopper?" 

"  Wall,  Brandy,  kin  yer  tell  us  how  the  diamond 
comes  ?  "  asked  Missouri. 

"  I  guess  they  grow,"  replied  Brandy,  with  a  merry 
laugh,  and  a  wink  at  me. 

"  Perhaps  there  is  more  in  that  than  you  think," 
said  Peter.  "  The  diamond  is  proved  to  have  mi- 
nute cavities ;  and  as  it  was  formed  from  a  solu- 
tion, it  must  have  been  once  in  a  soft  state.  It  may 
enlarge  when  left  in  its  original  place  —  eh  ?  The 
darkies  believe  that  diamonds  grow  ;  and  perhaps 
this  notion  originated  from  their  being  found  some- 
times in  clusters,  like  crystals  of  quartz.  The  natives 
of  Golconda  had  the  same  notion  formerly.  They 
felt  for  the  diamond  with  their  naked  feet,  in  a  black 
clay,  as  we  hunted  for  clams  at  low  tide  in  happy 
valley,  boys." 


THE    TRINITY  DIAMOND.  333 

All  laughed  at  this  conceit.  My  partner  thought 
Peter  was  joking  altogether.  The  latter  said  gravely 
he  could  quote  good  authority. 

"  I  remember  when  I  was  on  board  the  Ohio,  read- 
ing the  travels  of  Sir  John  Mandeville.  He  relates 
that  in  Ethiopia  the  diamonds  were  as  large  as  beans 
or  hazel-nuts,  square,  and  pointed  on  all  sides  without 
artificial  working,  growing  together,  male  and  female, 
nourished  by  the  dew  of  heaven,  and  bringing  forth 
children  that  multiply  and  grow  all  the  year.  He 
testifies  that  he  knew  from  experiment  that  if  a  man 
kept  a  small  one  and  wet  it  with  May-dew  often,  it 
would   grow  annually,  and  wax  great." 

Here  there  was  another  laugh,  in  which  Peter 
joined.  George  alone  looked  serious,  and  inquired 
if  diamonds  might  not  be  even  bigger  than  any  that 
had  been  mentioned.  Brandy  thought  they  might  be ; 
he  knew  nothing  to  prevent  it.  A  diamond  was  of  no 
more  account  in  Nature's  operations  than  any  other 
stone. 

George  then  related,  with  nervous  haste,  his  native 


334  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

dialect  coming  out  strong  as  he  spoke,  that  when 
he  was  alone  on  the  river,  before  he  went  down  to 
San  Francisco  for  supplies,  he  found  a  curious-look- 
ing stone  in  the  hopper  of  his  cradle.  As  he  was 
rubbing  down  some  lumps  of  clay  with  one  hand, 
while  he  poured  water  from  a  dipper  with  the  other, 
this  stone  became  very  clear,  and  seemed  to  have  a 
glazed,  metallic  coating,  except  on  the  side  where  it 
had  been  broken.  He  picked  it  out  and  threw  it  on 
the  dry  sand  behind  him,  intending  to  take  it  to  his 
tent  "  jest  for  fun  loike."  A  few  minutes  later,  as 
he  sat  rocking  again,  his  eye  fell  on  the  stone  where 
it  lay,  dry,  fractured  side  up,  "flashin'  in  the  sun  jest 
loike  a  dimon',  but  colored  loike  a  rainbow."  He 
thought  it  a  pretty  thing  to  keep,  saved  it,  and  when 
he  went  to  the  Bay  took  it  along  with  him,  and  left 
it  in  the  locker  of  his  sea-chest,  at  a  miner's  board- 
ing-house on  Pacific  Wharf.  "  An'  noo  I  wonder," 
he  continued,  almost  breathlessly,  "  if  it  were  na  a 
dimon'  truly." 

Missouri  —  who  was  in  the  habit  of  gibing  George, 


THE    TRINITY  DIAMOND.  335 

as  one  ignorant  man  will  often  gibe  another  more 
simple  than  himself  —  did  not  laugh  at  him,  nor  ut- 
ter contemptuous  comment.  He  sat  eying  him  in 
attentive  silence,  with  the  look  that  I  fancied  he 
may  have  worn  when  he  "  turned  up  the  belly  of 
an  Ingin  on  the  creek,"  as  he  had  boasted  one  day 
he  did.  He  had  lived  in  Oregon  years  before,  and 
"  thought  no  more  of  shootin'  one  o'  them  red  dev- 
ils than  a  rattlesnake." 

Peter  asked  how  big  the  stone  was,  and  George 
replied  that  it  was  as  big  as  his  fist.  Brandy  sug- 
gested it  was  a  fine  quartz  crystal.  If  it  were  a  dia- 
mond, it  would  be  worth  more  than  anybody  could 
afford  to  pay ;  and  George  might  have  to  remain 
poor  after  all,  for  want  of  a  purchaser. 

Peter  gravely  observed,  there  was  no  reason  why 
a  larger  diamond  than  any  yet  known  might  not  be 
found  on  Trinity  River.  As  they  had  not  found 
much  gold,  there  was  more  room  for  precious  stones, 
and  a  big  one  could  be  divided  and  sold  easily 
enough. 


336  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

George  said  that  it  was  very  bright.  He  had 
often  seen  it  shining  in  his  tent  at  night;  and  when 
he  put  it  in  the  till  of  his  chest,  it  shone  there  in 
the  dark.  He  declared  he  meant  to  show  it  to  a 
jeweler,  when  he  went  down  again.  It  might  be 
worth  "  somethink,"  if  it  were  no  diamond. 

Missouri  still  listened  in  silence  ;  and  no  more  was 
said  on  the  subject  by  any  one.  Brandy  stirred  up 
the  embers  of  the  fire,  we  lit  our  pipes  again,  smoked 
a  short  time,  sang  "  The  Old  Folks  at  Home,"  and, 
separating  for  the  night,  went  each  one  to  his  blank- 
ets and  to  sleep,  while  the  wind  roared  through  the 
pines  like  a  beating  surf,  and  the  rapids  rumbled  and 
thundered  through  the  rocky  canon  of  the  river. 

The  next  day  Missouri  said  he  was  going  up  the 
river,  to  a  new  trading  station  he  had  learned  was 
recently  started  there,  to  get  some  tobacco  and  pow- 
der. As  he  might  stay  over  night  he  would  take 
his  blankets,  and  his  rifle  of  course,  for  that  he  al- 
ways carried  on  his  shortest  excursions.  He  insisted 
on  a  division  of  the  amalgam,  as  he  always  did  when 


THE    TRINITY  DIAMOND.  337 

going  to  the  store,  because  he  was  an  inveterate 
gambler  at  poker,  and  every  store  had  then  its  gam- 
bling table.  His  partners  had  long  since  learned 
that  it  was  useless  to  remonstrate  with  him ;  so  they 
weighed  him  his  dust,  gave  him  two  or  three  com- 
missions, and  off  he  went,  whistling  "  The  Arkansas 
Traveler." 

We  never  saw  him  again.  Days  passed  without 
tidings  of  him.  We  thought  he  must  either  have 
fallen  a  victim  to  a  grizzly,  or  to  one  of  his  old  ene- 
mies, the  Indians.  One  of  us  went  up  to  the  new 
store  at  last,  and  learned  that  he  had  not  stopped 
there,  except  for  a  drink  of  whiskey,  but  had  pushed 
across  the  mountains  toward  Weaverville,  on  the  road 
to  Shasta.  His  abrupt  departure  excited  little  spec 
ulation,  and  was  then  passed  over  by  all  except 
George,  who  referred  to  it  at  intervals,  and  became 
unaccountably  moody  and  discontented.  One  night 
he  said  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  San  Fran- 
cisco :  he  was  sure  there  must  be  letters  from  Eng- 
land.    Peter  tried  to  dissuade  him  from  leaving,  and 


338  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

told  him  he  could  send  for  letters  by  express  from 
Weaverville,  at  a  cost  of  a  few  dollars.  No  ;  he  would 
go.  Those  express  fellows  never  got  anything.  Be- 
sides, he  was  "  tired  of  these  diggings."  He  sold  his 
share  in  the  quicksilver  machine,  took  his  gold  and 
blankets,  and  started  off,  after  a  hearty  hand-shaking 
from  each  of  the  three  men  he  left.  We  all  liked 
the  simple-hearted  fellow,  and  were  sorry  to  see  him 
go ;  but  as  we  had  determined  to  prospect  the  streams 
toward  the  Oregon  line,  which  had  not  then  been 
proved  to  contain  gold,  we  would  not  pull  up  and  go 
with  him.  He  promised  to  send  us  word  if  he  found 
good  mines  after  his  visit  to  the  Bay,  and  told  us 
where  he  would  stop  while  there,  —  at  a  house  on  Pa- 
cific Wharf,  much  frequented  by  sailors  and  miners, 
where  he  had  left  his  chest.  Peter  laughingly  told 
him  to  be  sure  and  get  a  good  price  for  his  dia- 
mond ;  but  he  did  not  laugh  in  reply.  Uttering 
only  some  kindly  words,  he  wrung  our  hands  again, 
and  we  saw  him  disappear  in  the  woods  up  the  hill. 
Later  in  the  summer  we  prospected  several  of  the 


THE    TRINITY  DIAMOND.  339 

northern  streams,  finding  gold  everywhere.  But  the 
Indians  were  threatening;  there  were  no  trading- 
posts  ;  there  was  not  time  to  get  supplies  of  our  own 
from  Sacramento  before  winter  would  set  in ;  and  at 
last  we  all  concluded  to  return  to  the  lower  part  of 
the  State.  I  went  as  far  as  San  Francisco,  and  the 
next  day  after  my  arrival  visited  the  place  on  Pacific 
Wharf,  described  by  George,  to  inquire  after  him. 
It  was  a  thin  shell  of  a  house,  erected  at  one  side  of 
the  wharf  on  the  hulk  of  a  bark,  that  after  years  of 
brave  service  on  the  ocean  had  been  sunk  and  aban- 
doned at  last  in  the  dock  mud.  Only  a  year  old, 
this  house  yet  had  the  appearance  of  age,  so  weather- 
stained  and  toppling  was  it.  Its  lower  story  was  di- 
vided into  a  rude  bar-room,  eating-hall,  and  kitchen. 
Its  upper  floor  was  covered  with  what  the  sailors  call 
"  standee  berths,"  provided  only  with  a  straw  mat- 
tress, pillow,  and  a  pair  of  heavy,  dirty  blankets.  Un- 
der many  of  these  berths  sea-chests  had  been  left  on 
storage  by  their  owners,  mostly  sailors,  who  had  de- 
serted their  ships  to  run  off  to  the  mines.     The  land- 


340  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

lord  himself  was  an  "  old  salt  "  —  an  Englishman.  I 
asked  him  if  he  knew  George,  and  could  tell  me  what 
had  become  of  him. 

"  Be  you  a  friend  of  the  lad  ?  "  he  inquired. 

I  assured  him  that  I  was  —  that  we  had  worked 
by  one  another  on  Trinity  River,  and  he  had  prom- 
ised to  write  to  me. 

"  Well,  it 's  a  queer  story,"  said  the  landlord,  a 
short,  thick-built  man,  with  ruddy  face,  who  spoke  his 
mother  tongue  with  many  elisions.  "  Ye  see,  George 
came  rushin'  in  one  night  from  the  steamer  McKim 
—  she  as  runs  'tween  here  an'  Sacramento.  He  was 
down  from  the  mines,  he  said,  an'  'ad  come  to  see  ole 
friends  and  take  away  his  traps.  I  told  him  he  would 
find  all  there  in  the  chest  —  ye  can  see  it  under  the 
bar  'ere  yet,  sir  —  all  that  his  friend  had  n't  taken 
away.  'Taken  away  —  friend  —  what  friend?'  said 
George.  '  Why,  your  friend  from  Trinity  River,'  sez 
I  ;  '  the  feller  with  the  long,  tow  hair  and  fever  an' 
ager  face,  and  with  terbacker-juice  runnin'  out  of  his 
mouth.'     '  Has  —  he  —  been  —  here  ? '    sez    George, 


THE    TRINITY  DIAMOND.  34 1 

slow  like.  '  Yes,  he  's  been  here,'  sez  I,  and  tell  I  you 
sent  him  for  some  little  things  in  the  chest.  '  There 
it  is,'  sez  I ;  and  after  he  had  treated  like  a  gentleman, 
he  pulled  it  out,  took  somethink  from  the  till,  put  it 
in  his  shirt  pocket,  and  went  off.  Before  I  could 
tell  him  more,  sir,  the  lad  —  George,  sir — made  for 
the  chest,  opened  it  quick,  rummaged  all  through  it, 
more  'n  once,  an'  then  stood  up  all  white  an'  glarin'. 
1 D —  him,'  sez  he  —  I  never  heard  the  lad  swear 
before — 'd —  him,  he  has  stolen  my  diamond!'  I 
thought  he  must  be  crazy,  sir,  with  that  mountain 
fever,  belike,  that  the  miners  get  in  the  diggins. 
'Why  George,  lad,'  sez  I,  'you  're  jokin'  me.  How 
should  a  poor  sailor-boy  'ave  a  real  diamond  —  least- 
wise a  honest  boy  like  you  ? '  But  George  he  only 
lowered  at  me,  an'  rushed  for  the  door.  He  was  off 
into  the  darkness  an'  fog  before  I  could  stop  him,  an' 
though  I  looked  an'  called  after  the  lad,  I  could  n't 
find  him.  Next  mornin',  when  I  opened  the  bar 
early,  I  seen  a  crowd  standin'  beyond  there,  sir,  nigh 
the  end  o'  the  wharf.     A  man  comin'  from  it  told  me 


34  2  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

a  drownded  body  was  fished  up  there.  Mistrustin' 
suthin',  sir,  I  went  to  spy  the  body.  It  was  the  puir 
lad's !  I  felt  guilty  like  an'  awfu'.  I  took  charge  of 
the  body,  sir,  an'  give  'un  a  good  funeral  at  Yerba 
Buena.  Next  mornin'  the  "  Alta "  said  as  how  a 
voungr  man  from  the  mines  'ad  fallen  through  a  man- 
trap  in  the  wharf,  'an  give  his  name  as  they  had  it 
from  I.  But,  sir,  whether  that  be  so,  or  he  jumped 
off  mad  into  the  water,  seekin'  death  willfully,  I  dun- 
no  ;  but  I  have  my  thoughts.  I  wrote  to  his  old 
mother  in  England  all  about  his  end  ;  but  it  was  a 
sad  job,  sir." 

The  good  fellow's  voice  grew  husky  as  he  spoke. 
I  could  not  speak  myself  for  a  few  minutes  —  poor 
George's  fate  seemed  so  sad.  Who  could  have  be- 
lieved that  a  pure  delusion  would  lead  one  ignorant 
man  to  a  mean  crime,  profitless  as  he  found  it,  and 
another  to  frenzy  and  death  !  Who  would  have  sus- 
pected such  a  tragic  sequel  to  our  careless  chat  on 
the  Trinitv! 


THE   OLD   AND   THE   NEW. 


In  no  white  winding-sheet  goes  out  the  year, 
Stiff,  straight,  and  cold,  with  mourners  by  its  bier, 

As  in  the  hard  Atlantic  clime, 
Where  bare-branched  trees  make  desolate  the  sky, 
And  streams  are  stilled  but  winds  are  piping  high, 

And  vapors  turn  to  stinging  rime. 

Not  typical  of  death  our  old  year's  end, 
But  rather  like  the  parting  of  a  friend 

Who  leaves  a  grateful  sense  behind  ; 
Or  like  a  maiden  loved  and  wedded  late, 
Who  goes  to  meet  her  joy  with  mien  sedate, 

Yet  calmly  happy  in  her  mind. 

The  long  dry  summer  sits  upon  the  hills 
In  memory  yet;  her  russet  color  fills 

The  distant  scene  with  mellow  tints ; 


344  CALIFORNIAN  PICTURES. 

Only  the  spring  that  swells  to  meet  the  cloud, 
Or  acorn-dropping  oak,  or  south  wind  loud, 
Another  mood  of  nature  hints. 

The  red  geranium  gleams  along  the  wall, 
The  pea-vines  leafy  tresses  thickly  fall, 

While  roses  blush  in  open  air  ; 
And  oft  in  sheltered  spots,  'mid  friendly  calms, 
The  calla  lily  lifts  its  broad  green  palms 

And  blossoms  into  saintly   prayer. 

Soon   all  the   tawny  hills  that  thirst  for  rain 
Will   don  an   emerald   robe   with  golden  train 

Of  yellow  poppies  glowing  like  a  flame ; 
The  summer  from  her  dusty  chrysalis 
Will  waken  to   a  life  of  winged  bliss, 

And  spring  will   be  its   happy  name. 


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